


A Gamble With The Universe

by tobiohchan



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fake Marriage, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Spy Family AU, plus mentions of other characters - Freeform, same goes for the sunaosa, somewhat graphic violence and mentions of war, the iwaoi is only visible thru squinting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29147706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobiohchan/pseuds/tobiohchan
Summary: Everyone has a part of themselves they don't show to others. Not to their friends, not to their lovers, not to their families. They do it with perfected smiles and practised conversations, hiding their true selves behind a mask. This is how the world compensates for peace.A story about a spy, an assassin, and a child of the universe (Spy x Family AU)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 41
Kudos: 88





	1. Naseeb

**Author's Note:**

> I've painstakingly written my first sakuatsu fic and it ended up at around 37k words...I don't know if this will be any good and this is the most nervous I've been posting something I've written lol. But! I'm posting it anyway and hoping for the best, because at the very least I had fun writing it, even if it didn't come out entirely like I wanted. 
> 
> Shout out to my homies Liz and Cas for continuing to be my greatest inspirations <3
> 
> Thank you and happy reading!!

**Naseeb (n-ah-see-b): what is considered as destiny or fate, the course of events predetermined by the universe itself**

  
  


_The mask I wear is not for you  
_ _But for me, me only  
_ _There is safety here, a darkness I know  
_ _An eclipse that lasts a lifetime_

  
  


The war between the East and West factions left a deep wound on world peace. Earth was restless - it’s people shaken and scouring for limbs of their loved ones within the rubble and ash, the stumps of trees barely holding onto their roots in the ground, the clouds searching for a sky that wasn’t gray. Buildings had collapsed, houses destroyed, children left without their families in a world where there was nothing left for them. 

Even now, when the sky turns gray to mourn, Agent Jackal remembers the scene in an intense moment - how in the night, in a matter of minutes, his comfortable life had become nothing more than ash. His ears rung from the sounds of explosives falling from the sky, his lungs panting smoke and tears streaking his face. He crawled out from beneath the pieces of his house and took in the utter chaos and destruction of his small world. 

_There is no war that brings peace_. 

Jackal, orphaned at twelve, understood in that moment that this world dangles between the desires of those that cannot comprehend the consequences of their actions. What is “greater good”? What is “for the sake of peace”? The East and West factions - or perhaps, the leaders, in particular - fought for their own ideals in an all-out war that wiped out nearly a third of the population. 

_That_ is why Jackal joined the Anti-War Agency (AWA). 

His espionage profile was something worth boasting about, and he made a name for himself that became well-known not only among the AWA agents, but even the enemies that pursued him. Who was this person that perfected the art of disguises? Who was this person that could deceive you through a play of words and a sleight of hand? Who could ever do so much damage and yet leave without a single trace? Who was this “Agent Jackal'' that could analyze his surroundings and use his observations perfectly in any situation? There was so much more to him - his interests were so catered to his missions that he soon became someone who could talk to anyone about anything as if he had studied it his whole life. He knew languages and played instruments and could break your mental resolve in the middle of a volleyball match, if he bothered to try. To him, the most important part of being a spy was being methodological, meticulous, and untraceable, and that’s how he became the best in his field. 

But intelligence and dexterity were only the tip of the iceberg. He’s had to work his handsome face more than a handful of times for certain missions, letting strange women caress his curly black hair or kiss the two aligned moles on his forehead. He hated it, but he knows how to work. Rather, he loves his work, loves that he can deceive and loves that this job means it is an ever changing plot to his life: new missions, new contacts, new things to absorb and learn in intricate detail, down to the last word or the darkest corner. 

But most of all, he loves his job for what it maintains: peace. 

As long as the AWA employs him, Agent Jackal swears to never let another war break again. He doesn’t care what it takes to do it, either. Whether that means defusing a bomb beneath a moving train within ten minutes, or assassinating a famous yet crooked diplomat that threatens the very peace he’s worked hard to achieve up until now. 

And so, when Agent Jackal is presented the details of his latest mission, Operation Noor, he is a bit surprised, to say the least. Through the glass, Jackal and his boss (codename The Handler), could see the small little boy in the other room, maybe about five in age, with messy orange hair playing with a ball by himself. 

“Handler...if I may ask, what in the world is this mission?” Agent Jackal asks, eyeing the boy as if he had never seen such a small creature in his life. 

“This is Shoyou-kun, whom you will be adopting as of today as part of your new mission.” The Handler smirks at Jackal, enjoying every moment of seeing her best agent - for the first time - _utterly confused_. “Look, I know this is all sudden, but this mission is imperative in keeping world peace.”

“And I ask again, what in the world is this mission?” Jackal turns to her with scrutiny in his eyes. 

“Agent Jackal, you stopped a human experimentation ring just last year. It was a great feat, it subdued any action from the West with superpowered soldiers like they had originally planned, and thus world peace was restored once again.” The Handler motioned exaggeratingly an invisible rainbow representing peace, to which Jackal scoffed. 

Looking now at the palm of his left hand, Jackal recalled the mission, Operation Ikhtiyar. “Despite everything we did, all the children they had worked on were killed by the researchers when they realized they had been infiltrated. We say the mission was a success, but all the children’s lives that were lost that day is no true success to me.” 

“You’re a perfectionist, that’s a ‘you-problem’ if you ask me.” She smiled and lit up a cigarette, one elbow leaning on her desk, looking into the direction of the child. “We don’t have the luxury of being regretful, Agent Jackal.”

“I’m aware of that, but I can’t say it looks good on my otherwise perfect espionage profile.” He strained a smile. 

“That’s what I like about you, Jackal.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and looked up at him. “This is a surviving child of that experiment, and we have no idea what he’s capable of or even if he’s going to survive to see tomorrow. None of our researchers have found any abnormalities in him, so he could just be nothing but a normal kid. But I have a hunch that’s not quite it.”

“So what does it have to do with me? Can’t we just keep him around HQ or with the lab?”

“I don’t know if it’s destiny or if the child really is superpowered,” said the Handler, a sudden look of fierceness in her eyes, “but he walked up to me in the street as if he knew me. No one should be able to decipher who I am or who I work with, Jackal, but not only did he recognize me, he even called me Kiyoko-san.” 

Jackal blinked in surprise, looking at her in confusion. “He...knew your name? Your real name?”

She nodded solemnly, looking over at the child again. “I had no choice but to bring him back here and ask questions, but before I could say anything, he suddenly blurted out ‘my father works for you! He’s the one with the two moles, when does he come to pick me up?’”

Agent Jackal thought long and hard about his affairs, his fake relationships, his escorts and his many rendezvous. Sure, there may have been a time more than once where he had to seduce his target in order to obtain information, but it was always safe (he was SO sure it was safe, like SOOOOOO sure it was safe, how could _he_ , master of never leaving a trace and literal perfectionist, not make sure that it was safe? Impossible, there’s no way it was not safe, there’s just. No Freaking Way). 

“Ma’am...I swear to you, I’ve always worn a condom.”

“I don’t think that’s it Jackal, but I appreciate the honesty,” she says with a laugh. “There’s something else that Shoyou said that is worthy to note. We had a thorough questioning session with him earlier before you arrived, which revealed little about himself besides one detail: there is one more child survivor of Operation Ikhtiyar.”

“Uh, what?”

“It shocked me too,” the Handler said with a nod, “Shoyou has no memory of how he escaped the institution before the massacre happened, but he vividly described the other boy who is called Tobio. It is in our interest to locate him immediately.”

“Seriously?” Jackal turned to look through the glass again, watching the child as if he could find all the answers in one glance. 

“Have a look at this,” she said, passing Jackal a document. “He lived in an orphanage not far from here this past year, was registered and everything. It’s a shithole, but the one who runs it said Shoyou showed up to the orphanage door himself and never said where he was from and how he got there. Apparently, he still doesn’t know either - he has no idea how he escaped, where he went after or what happened to the other child.” The Handler audibly sighed, her head resting in her palm as the other hand dangled her cigarette. “I’m having the agency locate this other kid for now, based on the descriptions Shoyou has provided. It seems he was running an errand when he ran into me, and decided to tell me all of this. I’m still seriously wondering if this kid is gifted or not.”

“I’m still in shock that he thinks I’m the father.” Jackal replies in utter dismay. 

The Handler laughs, “Well, you seem to be unsure of it yourself, care to find out?”

  
  


___________________________

  
  


_Your eyes hold the entire universe  
_ _Do I meet your eyes?  
_ _Or do I go blind waiting for you to meet mine_  
  


Shoyou was a boy with infinite energy that sometimes felt almost contagious. He could run all day and play all day but still feel like he could go on and on, fighting against the doctors trying to make him sleep. In the end, more often than not, they’d sedate him to force him into a slumber, so they could monitor his dreams and sleeping patterns. It was annoying, waking up to wires tangled with your limbs and all.

But despite Shoyou’s inability to perform the tasks the doctors wanted him to do, he realized he was exactly what they wanted him to be, and that’s why it was so imperative for him to hide it. 

For brief moments, sometimes manually conjured by his thoughts or brought out completely randomly, Shoyou receives visions or premonitions of the universe. There are times that they are as vivid as reality, he can feel things and smell things and all of it feels so entirely real he forgets that it didn’t actually _happen_ to him. Other times, they are so fast and fleeting he barely catches a glimpse - a dark-haired woman with glasses who used to run track, a man in a sweater and glasses who works behind a computer, a burly man with salt and pepper hair whose voice is overpowering. 

He sees these visions and somehow, he simply understands that these will be the people of his future. Sometimes he comes across information about the same person twice, like one vision he barely saw the dark-haired woman who runs on a track, and then much later, he hears a short blonde girl calling out to her by name, and then she is walking the street in her disguise ensemble, tailing her target as part of her spy mission. He puts together pieces of a puzzle, the universe allowing him this intel so that he can progress into the future, or so he has come to think. He has to collect these pieces, every day, as they come. He cannot always summon a vision, but sometimes the visions come without him wanting them to, invading his conscience like the ocean waves to the shore, always brief and fading, always leaving an imprint in the sandy grains of his mind. 

Shoyou wants nothing more than to survive and find himself a happier future. Anything is better than the experimental institute and the orphanage, but the best is the family he is destined to have. This is his favourite vision: he stands holding a photograph in his hand of his new family: he, in the middle smiling wide, and behind him are his two fathers, holding hands with a light blush on their faces. Shoyou has never wanted something so badly. And he will do anything to make sure this family becomes not only connected, but stays together. 

While Shoyou is far from being a bright child (based on his performance in the institute), he is a child that adapts quickly to his new environment, always looking for ways to improve and understand. And if it is one thing that is the most clear to even this small five year old boy, it is the fact that these visions or premonitions are unnatural and would cause too much imbalance in this world. He must keep it a secret, even from his future family, to ensure he gets to stay with them and not be taken away for experiments ever again. 

The resolve of a five year old boy isn’t the strongest, but it has a meaning, and it takes root even at this age.

“So, I’m told that your name is Shoyou, and you seem to be under the impression that I’m your father,” says Jackal, feigning his best smile in order to win over the child’s trust. He sees the child freeze, looking up at him in a curious gaze. Jackal decides to sit on the floor with Shoyou, crossing his legs. He motions for Shoyou to toss the ball to him, which he obliges, and so begins their game of catch.

“I don’t mean to trample on your impressions or anything,” Jackal continues as he passes the ball, “but I don’t quite think you’re _my_ son, is all.” 

Shoyou catches the ball and pouts, “Maybe not in a real way, but you will be!”

“And what do you mean that I _will_ be?” He counters, motioning for Shoyou to continue the game.

“Didn’t the tall lady say you have to adopt me?” Shoyou says, back into the motion of catching and throwing. 

Jackal looked at him in confusion, “How did you know that that’s what I was asked to do?”

“I just…,” he trailed off, suddenly conscious of the fact that he was already on his way to revealing his secret, _stupid Shoyou!_

He suddenly catches the ball and trots over to Jackal, a huge grin on his face, “I just had a good feeling about you, Papa!”

Agent Jackal studied the boy, looking for signs of deception or even brainwashing, anything really that could somehow explain the true thoughts of this five year old. There was nothing that hinted that he was lying, nothing that seemed off about his speech or the way he communicated. Rather, he said everything in such a matter-of-fact way that Jackal was finding it difficult to think otherwise - perhaps destiny or the universe or whatever it is that the Handler mentioned brought this child to him. 

There was an ache in Jackal’s chest, remembering himself crawling out of the rubble of his destroyed home, learning that his family and friends had all died. Perhaps it was the reason that he was older that he was able to adjust again to the normalcy of the world, but this child was no more than five. He has only begun to see this world and what’s in it. He has never known family, never known home or what it means to be a normal five year old boy. And yet, despite all his shortcomings, he stands before him with hope in his eyes and sunshine on his face. 

Jackal’s fingers tangle in the orange mess of hair as he smiles to the beaming child, “Alright Shoyou, I guess I will adopt you, only because I have a pretty good feeling about you too.” 

May the universe lead him from here.

________________________

  
  


“Okay Shoyou, let’s go over this again to make sure,” said Agent Jackal as he helped unbutton Shoyou’s coat. “What is your full name?”

“Sakusa Shoyou!” He beamed, his hands lifting in the air with every question answered.

“And what is my name?”

“Papa! No wait...you’re Sakusa Kiyoomi!”

“And what does p-papa do for a living?” He was still not used to being a papa, somehow, he felt embarrassed just referring to himself as such.

“Papa is a mind doctor at, ummm, Itayama hospital!”

“Itachiyama, but close enough, good.” Kiyoomi smiles as he helps Shoyou remove his rain boots. “And what did you see or talk about when you met my boss a couple days ago?”

“Just you working at the hospital!” Shoyou said, “I was mistaken thinking you were spies, you are just mind doctors!!”

“Mhm, very good.”

“Not that I have any merit in telling you how to parent, but isn’t that similar to brainwashing or something, Jac-I mean, Sakusa-san.” 

Kiyoomi turned over to the dark-haired man in glasses, who was bringing in some of the boxes into the new home of the Sakusa family. “I’m only making things clear for Shoyou, so he doesn’t misunderstand.” And then, a little more loudly, he adds, “There are no such things as spies, right, Akaashi?” Kiyoomi looked at the bespectacled man expectantly. 

Akaashi, following his weird friend’s antics only to appease, “Ah yes, there are definitely no such things as spies. It’s only in cartoons.”

Immediately, Shoyou beams, “Where can I watch cartoons papa?!”

“Nowhere yet, we have to move everything before we set up anything like a TV. Shoyou, help Uncle Akaashi bring in the boxes please!”

Akaashi couldn’t help but smirk, “I never thought I’d be an uncle to your kids this early in age, Jac-I mean, Sakusa-san.”

“Please stop with the one-liners and help me move,” Kiyoomi replied with rolling eyes. 

Akaashi Keiji was always a sharp person, not quite in the cynical sense, but in perception and keenness. That’s why Kiyoomi liked him so much - as his informant, Akaashi’s skills were top-notch, he was never wrong and always verified every intel brought to him, but he was also someone that easily became friends with a person as meticulous as Kiyoomi, considering his own nature was so similar. Of course, in order to continue this facade of being a psychologist (mind doctor was as close to understanding as Shoyou could manage), Akaashi is simply an old friend of Sakusa Kiyoomi who helps solve any technical issues when things go wrong in the research lab programs. 

As Kiyoomi brings his own boxes of things into his room, he notices one of the boxes was not one of the ones he had packed himself. Closing the door, he opens the box to see what looked like a blank piece of paper at first glance, but is actually a kind of paper that reveals what is written on it if it is basked in sunlight. Kiyoomi brings the paper to the window of his room and sees a coded message become visible. It takes a mere few seconds, but he unveils the meaning of the message and heads out immediately to visit HQ, leaving Akaashi in charge.

(Akaashi will be charging him for babysitting at a later time).

____________________

“What do you mean you’ve located the other boy,” asked Kiyoomi, his words flooding out of his mouth the second he entered the room with the Handler once again. She spun around in her chair and crossed her legs, her chin resting on one hand. 

“Based on the information we were given, we found him, this Tobio,” the Handler replied, passing off a photo of a child that perfectly fit the descriptions provided by Shoyou the other day. “Notice his uniform? Or the fact that he seems to have a last name?” She pointed at the name inscribed in the back of the polaroid picture that read: _Oikawa Tobio, kindergartener at Karasuno Academy._

Kiyoomi turned the photograph back over to the picture side of the boy. “Karasuno is the literal best academy there is in the East faction. Which means, whoever adopted him after he escaped is someone likely to be extremely important.”

The Handler nodded her head solemnly, presenting a set of pictures showcasing Tobio’s new family. “The foster fathers of this child are none other than Oikawa Tooru and Hajime. If we’re talking elitism, Oikawa Tooru in particular is at the top. There’s all sorts of rumours about this guy.”

“Such as?”

“We’ve had more than one tip about him having a hand in the East and West faction negotiations. He may not be a leader, but it seems he’s got quite the influence and has a lot of interesting friends on both sides. There’s tips on him supplying all kinds of information to either side, whichever he feels like favouring depending on his mood or the bribes provided to him. And also, I hear he’s a flirt.”

Agent Jackal looked at the Handler in disdain, “I hate flirts.”

“Heh, I’m aware of that,” she said laughing, “but I’ll still need you on this. Considering that we can’t recover Tobio, it means we’ll have to surveil him instead just like we’re doing with Shoyou. And now that we know we have a politically powerful influencer as Tobio’s father, we’re going to have to do a lot of digging to be sure whether the child is in the right hands or not.”

“We can figure out a way to get close to the Oikawas, can’t we?” Kiyoomi already knew the answer, but he wanted to pretend for a minute that the headache he had was his imagination. 

The Handler laughs, pointing at the array of pictures they were able to procure. “Do you see the amount of bodyguards this guy has? Rumours say, no one has ever seen Oikawa Tooru outside of his home. The only times he _is_ out of his home is to visit his foster child, Tobio, during a school function, and that’s only _sometimes_.”

Jackal could feel all of his mental power draining already, “Let me guess then, you want me to get Shoyou into this prestigious school to get closer to Tobio, so that I, by consequence, can get closer to Oikawa Tooru and find out his plans?”

“Whatever it takes, Agent Jackal,” the Handler replied with a smile.

____________________

The universe makes its own gambles, makes its own bets. Even if the chances are low, even if it’s one in a million, it will predetermine the course of events in its book of destiny. It will write down with one swift motion the kind of fate it envisions and declares so it shall be: permanent, unchanging, solidified, bold, unbreakable. 

Things always unfold at a different pace for those unknowing of their own destiny. But when one crosses paths with someone that is a child of fate, a child of the universe, the air begins to shift immediately, the course of events settling into their place within the puzzle, circumstances suddenly occurring that one would never have thought to be ready for. 

That’s how these two felt in one moment, one simple moment of locking eyes, one simple word of greeting exchanged between them, and their breaths were caught within the universe, within their destiny that was bound, forever from here on. 

Akaashi Keiji had never met a man that filled his chest with so much emotion at first glance, but neither did Bokuto Koutarou. They could never know what the other was thinking, never know that both of them were filled to the brim with such an aching feeling, never know that they had just met fate. 

  
  


____________________

_Mark me with your touch  
_ _Cut me wide open  
_ _It’s yours, all yours  
_ _Just for you, I won’t struggle  
_ _But lay me in a coffin with your own hands  
_ _Won’t you?_

  
  


There was something about the anonymity of vintage hotels. Bold carpets, faded wallpaper, rustic furniture - it all possessed an eerie feeling of a past long-forgotten by the inhabitants of today, but still remembered by the spirits that have haunted the halls all these years. This was Miya Atsumu’s favourite place to complete his job. 

He hummed as he walked through the dimmed hallways, the eerie silence of a floor booked out for privacy could be felt in the air. Chief Alisa had already secured the perimeter with her other contractors, leaving the most important job to her since-long favourite employee. Strange as it was, he had over the years become someone that had a bit of a habit when going into a new assigned task. Atsumu was the kind of guy that always wore a black suit and tie and a black collared shirt underneath. He carried a briefcase, which had no documents or laptops unlike popular assumptions, and wore an old watch, something he stole from one of his targets back when he was 12 on his first job. 

He finally arrived at the designated room, noticed two guards at either end of the hallway that nodded to him in signal. Atsumu pulled on the cuff of his shirt and felt a sharp blade slip from its brace on his arm inside his shirt, falling into the palm of his hand with ease. There were a lot of weapons Atsumu could use at his disposal, but for some reason, he felt a great attachment to knives and daggers. He could already feel his fingers tingling, waiting to draw the first blood of his target. Would they splatter the blood everywhere? Would they struggle for their life? Where should he cut them? Maybe three cuts to the neck, one stab to the chest, and _oh_ , why the hell is he still waiting out here?

He bursts open the door and estimates about 5 men, ready for a fight to death.

Miya Atsumu gives them a smirk and rolls his tongue nice and slow across the bottom of his lip, “Go ahead and try to kill me, I’m into that.”

The thing was, there weren’t a lot of things Miya Atsumu was good at, to say the least. The war between the East and West tore a lot of families apart, including his. But he counts himself as lucky - while many children were left without their parents or their siblings, Atsumu still had Osamu, his twin brother. They never met their father, but their mother took care of them until she died in one of the explosions that occured while she was out. And so, the Miya twins were left to fend for themselves.

Except, it was Osamu that had to be the one to fight the most. He became sick not long after the death of their mother, and with a food shortage and no financial help, Atsumu was in a bind. He did what he could for him - stole food when he could, begged for money. Soon, they cut off their electricity and their water for unpaid bills, and Osamu's sickness worsened. 

What could Atsumu do? 

Haiba Alisa was Miya Atsumu’s saving grace. She found him fighting two large men in the streets for bread and later learned the cause. She offered him a job that took a lot of resolve and a lot of emotional damage.

“I don’t care what I do, pay me and save my brother.”

How many times since then Atsumu would come home in different clothes than what he left with and a smile on his face, holding up a dubious amount of cash in Osamu’s confused and unsuspecting face. He kept it a secret, as best as he could, from Osamu so as not to worry him. But this was the best thing that ever happened to him, or so he thinks so far. 

Four men lay dead on the floor of the hotel room, their blood soaking into the already worn out carpet beneath them. Atsumu stood over the very last one, who begged for mercy on his knees in a language he did not understand. Chief Alisa had a lot of enemies, being from the West in an East faction location, and she was also the go-to for hiring contract killers. But the most admirable part of her cause was killing those that were a part of the East and West war that happened all those years ago. She lost her family in that war and became a leader of a mob at a too young age. She swears to kill anyone that threatens world peace, and there’s nothing better that Atsumu likes. 

He pulls out his favourite dagger for the main target from the inside of his now tattered suit jacket and, with one swift movement, he ends the man’s life, catching him as he falls head first into Atsumu’s arms, blood soaking his clothes. He unlatches the briefcase and pulls out a body bag for the target, along with cleaning supplies and a new suit, for himself. 

Years of learning to be an assassin has changed Atsumu. From martial arts to strength building to all kinds of weapon training, the most useful thing to learn was how to clean yourself and the crime scene. The first time Chief helped clean him up before he went home to his brother by giving him a new set of clothes. But as each job progressed, Atsumu became better at handling it. If the knife goes here, there’s less splatter of blood. If you hit their pressure points, there’s less struggle. Over time he learned how to wash the blood out properly, and to not wear white collared shirts. He started a memorabilia collection too, of fancy pistols and watches and broken lipsticks. 

Maybe he was a little crazy, but he didn’t care one bit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapter is fluffier and makes more sense, sorry this one was more based around setting the mood.


	2. Saathi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this sooner than intended because I realized there was nothing cute or fluffy about the first chapter lmao.
> 
> Also, just wanted to note that the reason I put Kiyoko as the handler is because I simply wanted to imagine her in a suit holding a gun. That is all.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Saathi (s-ah-t-hee): partner, accomplice, companion; may be used to describe a criminal accomplice or a romantic partner, depending on the situation**

  
  


_ Call my name   
_ _ I want to hear it with my own ears  
_ _ I want to taste it on your lips  
_ _ Breathe out each syllable  
_ _ Whisper each word _

  
  


“Thanks for putting all this together, Akaashi.”

“No problem Jac-I mean, Sakusa-san,” Akaashi replies with a smile, setting down a coffee in front of Kiyoomi. They both glance over at Shoyou, who blissfully plays with a toy car on Akaashi’s desk at his computer repair office. 

“Not only does this mean I have to make sure Shoyou gets into the school with good grades, but I also need to find a marriage partner…,” Kiyoomi said, sifting through the research documents Akaashi put together for the mission. “So you’ve generally done a background check on all of the unmarried people in the list I gave you, right?”

“Yes, I’ve only included the ones that seem they would be a good fit.”

“Hmm, there’s so many names here...Kuroo Tetsurou, Sugawara Koushi...this Miya Atsumu seems okay. Works as an office assistant.”

Akaashi smirked, “He seemed like your type from the picture, that’s for sure.”

“Ugh, never mind. I take it back.” 

“I didn’t expect them to say they require both parents to be present at the interview, a bit harsh for divorced couples.”

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, “Such pretentious fucks.”

“Fucks!” yelled Shoyou as he happily ran past.

“NO! Don’t repeat that word, that’s not a word for kids Shoyou!” Kiyoomi got up to chase after him, praying nothing gets knocked over. 

At that moment, the front entrance bell rang to indicate a customer, who walked in still on his phone.

“No, no, I’m happy for you guys, but that doesn’t mean I want a boyfriend or anything like that right now………….no, Samu, it doesn’t mean I’m going to die alone…………….ok seriously, can we stop mentioning marriage……………..what do you mean do I even have the looks for a husband, WE HAVE THE SAME FACE…….isn’t it normal to be single, what………………..ok I’m hanging up now, bye.”

Akaashi accidentally gave his new customer an all too well known pitiful smile. “Welcome.”

Atsumu, already feeling drained from his conversation with his brother, just barely managed to smile back. “Sorry ya had to hear that, I take it you’re Akaashi? I’m here to pick up for Bokuto Koutarou.”

Keiji straightened up in surprise, “Ah, are you a friend of Bokuto-san, then?”

“Yes, I’m here to pick up that hulk’s computer…”

But Keiji couldn’t help but feel disappointment, an emotion he hasn’t felt this deeply in a long time. Maybe it was just him, maybe he was simply imagining things, but Keiji felt like his reality was torn apart and pieced together in a single moment, in a single glance, when his eyes first met Bokuto Koutarou just a couple days ago. 

Salt and pepper hair and the most intense gold eyes he had ever seen, not to mention he was someone burly and probably strong enough to lift Keiji into his arms with ease (not that Keiji really wants him to do that, or anything). He dropped off his computer to Keiji and said he’d “broken the keys off the laptop keyboard again” and  _ god, does that mean his hands are that strong too? What else do they-no wait _ , Keiji was getting side-tracked again. Bokuto Kotarou, the first customer Akaashi Keiji ever looked forward to meeting again, didn’t even show up? 

“Uh, Akaashi-san, are you going to give me the laptop or not?” Atsumu said, waving the cash payment in Akaashi’s face.  _ That _ helped him come out of his delusion.

Akaashi straightened his glasses on the bridge of his nose and shook his head, “I apologize, I had expected Bokuto-san to come pick it up.”

Seeing the disappointment on Akaashi’s face, Atsumu wondered if he should be the good guy here and tell Bokuto to come by himself. But today, however, Atsumu was not in the mood. 

“Well he had some stuff going on at the office so he couldn’t come,” Atsumu replied, which was not quite a lie either. Besides Atsumu, the only other one that the chief employed was Bokuto Koutarou for the assassin jobs, and he really had his hands full today. 

Akaashi considered for a moment, “So are you and Bokuto-san co-workers? Friends, even?”

“Hm? Sure we’re friends and co-workers yeah. So are you going to give me the laptop or…?”

Akaashi Keiji was a simple man. He worked as an informant because he was good at observing people and people naturally trust him (even when they shouldn’t). His day job of working as an IT service agent wasn’t truly important to him (nor was it as thrilling). And that’s the crux of it all: Keiji is so careful that he doesn’t push his boundaries far enough for that kind of excitement and thrill he yearns for - sure, his contact and friend Agent Jackal provides him with juicy stories about his spy missions and so on, but it’s not the same. There’s no danger to him, no thrill for him to experience. And when Keiji looked at Bokuto, there was danger and thrill so imminent it sent a shiver down his spine. 

What could Akaashi do to get closer to a thrill like Bokuto Koutarou?

“You’re Miya Atsumu-san, aren’t you,” Akaashi begins, putting on his best smile as he yanks the arm of Kiyoomi sitting behind him and pulls him to the front counter. “This is Sakusa Kiyoomi, who happens to be looking for a temporary marriage partner for personal reasons.”

“Uh, wait a minute here--” Atsumu attempts to say, frantically looking at the newly introduced Sakusa Kiyoomi who is. Well. He’s real handsome alright, Atsumu will give him that. His hair is well done and his moles are cute and he’s got this look that says he’s utterly tired at all times which somehow, in a weird way, has a strange and incomprehensible effect on Atsumu. He thinks it might be a little hot in a really weird way and he wants to know why his brain is like this. 

“Miya-san, I apologize for overhearing your conversation, but it seems that you might also be in need of a marriage partner, correct?” Akaashi continued, now elbowing Kiyoomi to stop backing away. 

Atsumu considered the situation: sure, Osamu has been worried (in his own weird way) this past year about whether or not Atsumu is okay. Just because Samu got himself a boyfriend, doesn’t mean Atsumu needs one too. But Samu is right about one thing (that Atsumu will never admit), Atsumu is lonely without him. Going all these years next to a twin brother means so many things, this twin is not only your family, but also your closest friend and your greatest ally. And even though Atsumu is so proud of him for pursuing his dreams and getting a normal life, Atsumu is...doing none of that. Hell, he doesn’t have a dream, doesn’t really know what a normal life is all about. Apparently being single isn’t normal, he didn’t know that either. 

So what if, at the very least, Atsumu marries for the sake of keeping a normal profile and easing Osamu’s worries? If he doesn’t have any dreams or any ways to connect to other people considering the fact that he does  _ assassinations _ for god’s sake, what if he entertains the idea of a temporary marriage, figure out what’s normal, lose any suspicions, and then go from there? 

“Akaashi, I think you’re overstepping…” said Kiyoomi, a stern look on his face. “First of all, I don’t even know if this guy’s good for anything.”

Atsumu’s natural reflex was to get snarky. “Excuse you, Moles, I am a  _ fucking _ delight.”

“Just your cocky attitude is enough to tell me that’s not true,” Kiyoomi stepped past the counter and came closer to Atsumu like he was gearing up for a fight, looking at him from head to toe. 

“The only one with an attitude here is you. Why bother trying to look handsome when all you’re gonna do is kill the mood,” Atsumu replied in confidence, as if he didn’t just call the guy handsome in what was supposed to be an insult. 

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes and continued, “Do you know how to cook? And take care of a child?”

Atsumu blinked in surprise. He already knew the answer wouldn’t suffice, but it was too late to back out now. He  _ had _ to assert himself as a capable person right now, otherwise he’d be too depressed on his way home. 

“Sorry, I can’t do either!” Atsumu declared, which earned him a very solemn look from both Sakusa and Akaashi. “BUT I know martial arts and I do strength training! Oh! And I can clean blo- I mean, I can clean just about anything spotless.”

As a spy specializing in being untraceable and meticulous, Kiyoomi raised a brow and held a finger to his chin in consideration, “Cleaning and strength? That’s not bad. I think that might be useful, as I can fill in the gaps in terms of cooking, though I’m not so confident in child-raising myself…”

Atsumu blinked in surprise yet again, suddenly realizing he didn’t notice that there were mentions of a child before. “Wait, hold on, you have a kid? I don’t know how I feel about marrying someone who has a kid…”

It was now Kiyoomi’s turn to realize that he had to make a cover story for this child and his situation. “Ah, my wife died giving birth, and it was her dying wish to have our child enter the Karasuno Academy.”

“Sakusa-san has been raising this child himself and really wants to fulfill her wish, but he can’t get into the school unless there are both parents present for the child.” Akaashi added on, hoping that the sympathy factor may aid in Atsumu’s decision (it does not). 

Atsumu shook his head, “Look, that’s a sad story and all, but I really don’t know about kids…”

He trailed off abruptly, looking at a small orange haired child running full speed at him. When the child reached Atsumu, he clung to his leg and shouted, “Dad!”.

“Ah, I’m so sorry Miya-san, this is my son Shoyou,” Kiyoomi said frantically, wondering  _ why in the heck did this kid scream Dad! to a literal stranger? _ “Shoyou, come over here.” 

The universe’s mysteries are only a secret to Kiyoomi, but they are as clear as ever to Shoyou. He did not mistake Miya Atsumu for a different father, but  _ the _ father, the one in his happy family photo of his not-so-distant future. 

Atsumu crouched down to level with Shoyou, who let go of his leg and raised his arms in the air in sheer excitement. Atsumu smiled and asked, “Sakusa-san, is this adorable little munchkin really your son?” 

“He’s a gremlin, and yes he really is, but I thought you weren’t interested if there was a kid involved?” Kiyoomi looked down at the altered face of Atsumu, completely taken aback by how kind he looked. This Miya Atsumu, who smiled lovingly at Shoyou, wasn’t half bad at all. 

“I’ll take him!” Atsumu shouted in determination, which earned a cheer and a clap from Shoyou. 

(What no one saw in this moment was Akaashi, smirking in delight that his plan was working just like he intended. If Miya Atsumu and Agent Jackal got married, that means Akaashi had much higher chances of running into Miya’s co-worker, Bokuto Koutarou, outside of whenever he broke his laptop. All according to plan, so far.)

  
  


______________________

  
  
  


Sakusa Kiyoomi (AKA Agent Jackal) was a meticulous fiend. He was thorough, a double and triple check kind of guy, the one that would get the warranty and always use extra locks on the door, with an alarm system in place, of course. That was the kind of person he was - this wasn’t even playing a kind of persona anymore, this was the real him. He had very specific likes and dislikes, and he was very careful not to run into his dislikes and took every precaution just to be sure. 

But somehow in all his meticulous methods and his sheer disapproval for things being done without his input or within his control, Operation Noor continued to feel like he was just riding the current. Fine, he accepted adopting Shoyou because he too thought it would be the best course of action for the child, they didn’t call him the best spy in the agency for nothing and Shoyou needed protection by all means. But Miya Atsumu? He’ll wring Akaashi’s neck later for cajoling both of them into it. Kiyoomi didn’t research enough, didn’t even get the chance to check what this guy does every day at work and what brand of toothpaste he uses and what is his shoe size and how often he calls his family,  _ etcetera _ . 

Kiyoomi loved all the intricate details of his job, but it was a safety measure too. He needed to be sure of everything, at every given decision. Sure, there were times he had to make a split-second decision and hope for the best, but having a child and now a new husband just suddenly thrust into his lap for the sake of world peace was really testing his capabilities. He’s a spy, for god’s sake. Why is he helping a child dry his hair out of the bath? Why is he running to the oven to make sure dinner didn’t burn? Why is he helping his new (fake) husband move in with boxes of literally sixty pairs of shoes? 

“By the way,” Kiyoomi began, the tiredness seeping into his voice more than he intended at the dinner table where the two husbands and child sat together, “I pulled some strings and got the marriage certificate to be dated back a year, in case Karasuno Academy thinks it’s fishy we got married just to get into the school.”

“That makes sense,” Atsumu nodded in agreement, barely looking away from his plate of food. 

_ I guess he likes my cooking?  _ Kiyoomi couldn’t help but wonder. 

“Although, I don’t know if that’s going to be an issue on your end, with your brother and all. I would prefer keeping the story straight with everyone else outside our family, if that’s possible.” There he was again, meticulous Kiyoomi trying to cover all bases. 

“Ah that’s fine, I’ve already told my co-workers I’ve been married but I couldn’t move in with you earlier since your job was far away, until now. I’ll say the same thing to Samu.”

Kiyoomi looked at Atsumu with suspicion in his eyes, “Is that really okay?” 

Atsumu pointed towards himself in assurance, “It’s fine, it’s fine! Samu’s never really dug too deep into my affairs, so he’ll believe me. Just leave it to me, I got this.” Somehow, that did not settle Kiyoomi, but he nodded in affirmation anyway. 

“So you’re okay with your room then, right?”

Shoyou perked up at the question and asked his own, innocently, “Will you be sleeping together in papa’s room?!”

In unison, they both shouted, “NO!”

“We’ll be in separate rooms, Shoyou, but don’t go around telling that to people, okay?” Atsumu explained in the nicest way he could. To which Kiyoomi added, deadpan, “and please don’t say such gross things ever again.”

Atsumu took this opportunity to poke Kiyoomi’s arm, “Nothing wrong with sharing a bed with yours truly, but I have this feeling you snore so I’d rather not.”

“I was about to say the same to you, you look like you drool in your sleep.”

“I do not!!” And then, with a mischievous smirk on his lips, Atsumu added, “Omi-omi, you didn’t deny your snoring, so I was right after all huh?”

Kiyoomi looked at him completely disgusted, “Do  _ not _ call me that.”

“Whaaaaat what’s wrong with it, Omi-omi? It’s cute and couples call each other pet names, don’t they, Omi-omi?” Atsumu replied in his most exaggerated sweet voice, his head resting in the palm of his hand as he grinned at Kiyoomi, eyelashes fluttering and all. 

Kiyoomi could only sigh. Why did he have to be right? 

“So I was thinking,” Atsumu said, suddenly changing the subject. “You’re pretty good at a lot of things, but there’s one thing that I think you could really use my help on.” 

Kiyoomi raised a brow, “Oh really? And what’s what?”

Atsumu pointed first at Kiyoomi, and then at Shoyou, “I’m going to guess you dress Shoyou, so I should say I’ll help you both. Omi-omi, your fashion sense is really bad.”

“How is it bad?” Generally, Kiyoomi’s work clothes were provided by the agency depending on the mission, but otherwise he felt like his casual wear was fine?

“Do you not see that you’ve dressed Shoyou in plaid shorts with a plaid shirt?” Atsumu asked, holding up Shoyou from his seat, who was only confused by the gesture. “This is a peak fashion disaster. And you’re wearing the world’s brightest neon yellow shirt with blue track pants like you’re a two-coloured glow stick.”

Kiyoomi looked down at his ensemble, realizing that he’s even wearing socks with sandals in the middle of the rainy spring season. To be fair, the only thing he had to worry about was wearing loose clothing for the sake of moving Atsumu into the house, but he supposes perhaps his clothing could use a bit of an upgrade, and Shoyou’s too by consequence who barely had much clothing to begin with. 

“Not to mention, we’re supposed to be looking like high-class people that can afford to send their son to  _ the _ Karasuno Academy,” Atsumu continued, for once in his life even he felt like he was giving a sound argument. 

“Fine,” Kiyoomi said, to Atsumu’s surprise. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow, I guess.”

“Okay, but outfits will be approved by me  _ before _ we go out, I refuse to walk next to a highlighter and his mini highlighter, yeah?”

Kiyoomi and Shoyou had little room to refuse.

  
  


_______________________

  
  
  


Kiyoomi felt a tiredness creep up his neck and shoulders when he emerged out of the changing room, now modelling the fifteenth outfit that Atsumu chose for him. At this stage even Shoyou was giving into boredom, his toy car and his stuffed bear no longer entertaining him in the clothing store. He had dropped them both on the floor and had begun to run through the racks of clothing, feeling like his energy had been too welled up and needed to be expended at all costs. Without dropping his very clearly amused gaze on Kiyoomi, Atsumu managed to catch Shoyou before he ran too far and held him up in his arms. 

He gave a whistle to Kiyoomi, “Yep, this one looks amazing on you too Omi, as expected!” 

Kiyoomi sighed, “I feel like you had a bit too much fun with me.”

“Up until now, you’ve dressed so poorly I had no idea how handsome you were, Omi-omi.” Atsumu replied with a smirk. 

“And maybe if you toned down your ego I’d find you cute, but that might be a bit hard for you, wouldn’t it?” Kiyoomi got a pout out of Atsumu and let a small smile slip, _ alright, his pouts are cute, I’ll give him that _ . 

“Can we  _ pleaaaaaase _ go to the toy store now, Dad?” Shoyou insisted, poking Atsumu’s cheek repeatedly. 

“Okay, okay, stop poking me ya little devil,” Atsumu said as he let Shoyou down. 

“You two go on ahead to the toy store and the kid’s clothing store, I’ll pay for all this and meet you.” Kiyoomi had already begun walking to the counter, the clerk beginning to scan all of the “Atsumu Approved” clothing. Kiyoomi had noticed minutes ago one of the sales associates dropped a burner phone with a note in the pocket of his coat, but couldn’t act on it until now. He waited for Atsumu and Shoyou to leave the store and followed the same sales associate out of the employee exit into a private office. They nodded at each other, the fake sales associate keeping watch outside the office while Kiyoomi dialed the number on the note. 

“Agent Jackal, sorry to bother you while you’re out,” said the Handler, no hint of sorry in her voice. 

“I do wonder sometimes whether you know the meaning of a day off, ma’am,” Kiyoomi replied, already feeling strained. 

The Handler laughs, “I know I’m overworking you, but I’ve got little choice. World peace and all that.”

“And what does the maintenance of world peace require me to do today?” He paused in thought for a moment and added, “And please don’t say it’s adopting another child.” 

“I’ll spare you on the adoption this time,” said the Handler, the sound of ammo being loaded into a gun echoed behind her. “You happen to be a block away from what we’ve identified as a trafficking ring location. We were planning to raid the place, but there was an unexpected altercation that happened just outside of it.” The Handler’s voice became much more serious as she continued. “There’s too many dead or close to dying agents over there, Jackal. I’m sending reinforcements, that includes you, to get the other agents out of there and see if you can free the girls that are stuck.” 

Kiyoomi looked up at the ceiling, thinking how long Atsumu and Shoyou would buy the excuse  _ there were too many clothes to scan _ . “Alright, I’m on my way. I’m borrowing this sales associate messenger as my backup.”

  
  


______________________

  
  


_ I’d devour the moon whole   
_ _ Pick each and every star in the sky  
_ _ Stick them to my own skin  
_ _ Bury myself away _

_ A darkness like yours doesn’t deserve  
_ _ Even the faintest of lights _

  
  
  


“Can I talk to papa too, dad?” Shoyou asked, jumping up and down while trying to reach Atsumu’s phone. 

“Ah sorry Shoyou, he just hung up.” Atsumu looked at the time on his phone, perplexed and somewhat guilty wondering just  _ how many _ clothes he ended up approving that it’s taking this long. He’ll have to apologize for going overboard later (even though he doesn’t regret it, Kiyoomi looked  _ damn _ good if he does say so). “How about for now, we pick out some cool clothes for you and you can show them off to papa when he gets here?” 

“Okay!!” Shoyou shouted, bolting inside the store and almost running over a tiny mannequin on his way in. 

“Shoyou! Don’t run inside the store!” Atsumu chased after him, giving apologetic glances to the giggling sales clerks and customers. Atsumu caught him and pulled him up by the arms, staring him down in the most stern expression he could manage. “Don’t run too far away from me, Shoyou. Ya never know what kind of weirdos lurk around here, okay?”

  
  


__________________________

  
  


The trafficking ring location was much easier to take down than Kiyoomi had originally surmised. The reinforcements were able to take all injured agents off site, while Kiyoomi and, to his own surprise, the Handler took the initiative to scout the place and come up with a plan. 

“You sure you’re fine with field work, ma’am? After all that desk work?” Kiyoomi asked just to tease her, throwing her a pair of gloves. The best gunner the agency has ever had was here on the scene, anger flowing through her. Kiyoomi looked forward to learning from her today. 

“No, I’m not fine,” she replied with a grin, slipping on the gloves, “But I wanted to look cool wearing this suit, so I thought I might as well come here and show it off.” 

Kiyoomi loaded his gun. “You look lovely, but I’m clearly the better looking one here.” He was wearing Atsumu-approved clothing, a black turtleneck with plaid brown slacks, rolled at the bottom to showcase lace-up combat boots he technically only wears when he as missions that require sniping from a distance, but hey, if they work for fashion too, that’s fine with him.

“I won’t disagree, it seems choosing Atsumu for your partner has its benefits. You no longer look like you’re on your way to a rave.” She also loaded the ammo into her pistol, finishing with a satisfying  _ click _ . 

“I never intended to, but good to know that I used to look like a highlighter, a glowstick,  _ and _ a rave-enthusiast, for fuck’s sake.” 

The Handler laughed as they walked up to the building. It was a loading site, access only through large garage doors. Inside they had estimated about 30 or so girls of varying ages that are intended to be sold to the West faction’s lowest people. There were a total of 17 trafficking workers, including their boss. 

“Well then,” the Handler declared, “Let’s get started, shall we?”

  
  


___________________

  
  
  


The universe made sense in the most illogical order. In Shoyou’s eyes, stars should never be aligned, the moon should never eclipse the sun. Chaos was the truest form of the universe - nonsensical, incomprehensible, unpredictable. It was all he had ever come to understand of it, pieces of a puzzle of a whole universal entity that could never be seen in its fullest, no matter how broad your sight or your mind. When he saw visions, they would never occur just before an event happened. They would happen years ago, or they would appear years later like a memory captured. But things were changing within him, he could sense it. 

He was feeling a restlessness in his chest and a tiredness sinking so deeply he thought he might fall asleep, but he hung on. He clung to his dad’s leg, a dazed look on his face. It was like waiting for a sneeze to come by, every part of his little body getting ready for an impact. 

He’d seen it only for about five seconds, so dazed out of his mind that he didn’t see Atsumu crouch down to face him, didn’t hear him asking if he was alright, couldn’t even feel his dad’s comforting hand on his forehand checking his temperature. He was walking with Atsumu outside the store, let his hand slip from Atsumu’s and suddenly came to a halt, his surroundings pulsating between blurring and in-focus. 

“Dad, I think there are bad people here.” He managed to say, rubbing his eyes as he pointed to his right. 

“What?” Atsumu turned around to face Shoyou.

Only to see him get snatched.

Three men. Their faces covered by scarfs and masks, they looked just like any other person waiting for spring to come so they could finally shed their coats. The thinnest of the three had his hand cupped to Shoyou’s mouth, his arm wrapped around the child that was attempting his best to struggle out of the hold. They ran down a small hallway in the corner of the shopping center and came out into an alleyway, long and littered, that looked out into the street.

They thought they were safe. 

They’d made no abductions the whole day, struggling to find any teenage girls alone (who were the intended targets). The police were probably onto them and had issued a warning, because all teenage girls at the mall were travelling in packs of four or more. They had to act fast and bring at least  _ someone _ back, otherwise the boss would kill them. Shoyou was a split second decision - he was small but cute so he would sell, he had only one parent with him, he looked tired enough that he wouldn’t give them any struggle. 

“SHOYOU!” Atsumu was behind the slowest man in less than a minute, kicking him from behind the knees to make him fall and then attacking the pressure points in the neck, rendering him unconscious for a short while. The other two men halted for a moment to look back, confused that they were not only followed but were pursued by one lone father. “Shoyou, I want you to close your eyes and count to a hundred, you can do that for me, right?” Atsumu was angry, you could feel it in every bit of his voice. 

“Let’s take care of him quickly and then go,” the one holding Shoyou ordered, “It’s easier two on one.” 

Shoyou, still panicking, made eye contact with his dad. “Close your eyes Shoyou and count for me, please?” Atsumu repeated, this time sounding kinder, with a smile to reassure him. Shoyou nodded and shut his eyes, his words muffled under the kidnapper’s hand covering his mouth. 

“You fucking pieces of shit,” Atsumu knew he was getting overcome with anger, his temper flowing into the tips of his fingers and the temples of his forehead. “Give me back my son. Right. The Fuck. Now.” 

The two accomplices looked at each other for a brief moment, and then one charged straight at Atsumu, pulling out a gun from inside his jacket. Before he had time to aim, Atsumu was already on him, twisting the arm holding the gun so fast and so painfully that he lost his grip and shot the clothing line above them. Undeterred even by the gunshot, Atsumu took a full swing at the guy’s jaw, another to the stomach, and kicked him down after pulling the gun out of his hand completely. 

The largest man he had knocked unconscious had come to and tried to grab Atsumu from behind in a chokehold, but was elbowed in the stomach, followed by an uppercut to the chin. Pulling one of his pant legs up, Atsumu extracted a small dagger from its holder on his leg and swiftly made a shallow wound in the chest of the man, pulling his knife back before the man dropped to his knees. 

One left. This one was scared, Atsumu could tell, he always can. Those that are ordering the others to do their dirty work for them are the weakest, most fragile ones. 

“Stay back, I have a gun and I’ll use it on the kid, if I have to…” Atsumu knew it was a ruse, he’d have to let go of Shoyou in order to pull out his gun, and he was too stupid to think to do it while Atsumu was fighting his friends. This guy is just an underling, an amatuer. 

He saw the man’s hand let go of Shoyou’s mouth and reach behind his back - an opening. The man barely reacted as Atsumu closed the distance in seconds and punched him in the mouth. The impact caused his head to knock back into a pipe, and he fell on his knees. His other hand let go of Shoyou, who ran to Atsumu instinctively. He picked him up in his arms, whispering to him to keep his eyes closed, and casually walked over to the kidnapper who had not quite recovered from the blow. Atsumu grabbed the man’s face in his hand and smashed the back of his head against the brick wall, two, three...six times, until he was satisfied. Until the anger subsided and the tingling in his fingers stopped. 

Atsumu looked at the boy in his arms, trembling and crying with his eyes still closed, and felt a deep kind of sadness even he couldn’t explain. He pulled Shoyou into a tight hug, patting his back and kissing his temple. “It’s okay little munchkin, I’m here, I won’t let anyone hurt you or take you away. I promise.” 

  
  


__________________________

  
  
  


Maybe it was the psychological effect of having to use the term “family” to describe his living situation currently. For all other missions, Kiyoomi has always lived alone, many times parading to be an eligible bachelor so he could catch the hearts of those that would give him information or help him with his mission somehow. There hasn’t been a permanent home in years - it’s been grungy to first-class hotels, almost empty apartments rented out for small amounts of time, even Akaashi’s grandma’s couch once, when he was being pursued by the government’s military secret service. 

It didn’t feel like a big deal when they realized they had only caught 14 of the 17 traffickers, especially considering that their ring leader was apprehended. They might have escaped when the altercation first happened with the rest of the workers outside the facility in the first place. Some other AWA agents could try to locate them, it’s nothing to be so worried about. 

But for some reason, Kiyoomi felt his heart plummet down to his stomach when they informed him that the police got a tip from a Sakusa Atsumu, stating that the last three criminals tried to take his son, so he knocked them unconscious in the alleyway. 

It was a fake family, a temporary family for the sake of a mission. That’s all. He couldn’t risk emotional attachment, couldn’t even bear to think about it. He thought of how important it was to keep Shoyou safe, how  _ he _ was supposed to keep Shoyou safe, and the guilt inside of him boiled, having already almost lost the kid when the mission had only just begun. 

He ran to them, standing at the exit of the mall, Shoyou still in Atsumu’s arms, clinging to his shirt, while a police officer (AWA agent in disguise) asked them questions about what happened. They were dragging away the three kidnappers, beaten bloody and unconscious, more than what Kiyoomi imagined Atsumu was capable of doing. 

“Papa!!!” Shoyou shouted, eyes puffy but no longer crying. “Papa papa, dad was soooooo cool!!! When they grabbed he ran like NYOOM and then he went BWAH and kicked down this guy and then, and then the other one came so he went WOOSH and then KAPOW and WHAM and--”

“Kiyoomi, this guy is excited but,” Atsumu tried to say, trying not to be hit by Shoyou’s gestures of punching and kicking, “I’m really so sorry, I shouldn’t have even allowed them to come near him, let alone touch him. That’s my fault.”

“Nuh uh?!” Shoyou shouted again, grabbing Atsumu’s face in both his tiny little hands, “I let go of your hand and then they grabbed me. Dad didn’t do anything wrong!” He began to pout, staring at the sad and guilt-stricken face of Atsumu. 

But for Kiyoomi, this was relief. It was showering over him and loosening all of the tension in his muscles, breaking apart his fists and his clenched jaw. 

It was a fake family, a temporary family for the sake of a mission. And yet the feelings of losing even just a fake family sent a shiver down Kiyoomi’s spine. 

Kiyoomi ruffled Shoyou’s hair with a smile and, when his eyes met with Atsumu’s, he found himself going with the flow, with the impulses twitching in his fingers and in his lips. He grabbed Atsumu’s free hand and kissed it, barely knowing why he was doing it at this point. Atsumu blushed in confusion, the words ‘what’ and ‘why’ spilling out of his pretty mouth. 

“You have nothing to be guilty of, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi said quietly, a blush creeping up on his cheeks as he suddenly realized how embarrassing this was. “Um, thank you, I really mean it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming soon! Thank you so much for reading :D


	3. Zalim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't judge me but I wrote half this chapter to [gang-plank galleon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dBlBpXWLKcA&list=RDdBlBpXWLKcA&start_radio=1&ab_channel=31HorasMusic). I really DON'T recommend you listen to it while reading, but maybe after lol. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

**Zalim (z-ah-lim): describes someone who is mean or ruthless; specifically, any person who exercises power in a cruel manner**

  
  


_I am no blank canvas  
_ _I am not for you to paint over  
_ _I am not for anyone to behold_

  
  


Kiyoomi and Atsumu sat at the dining table, several books spread out in stacks, practically hiding Shoyou in his seat. Atsumu was only following Kiyoomi’s lead, unknowing himself what kindergarteners even learned at this age. But he felt like this kid probably needed some help as he recalled asking Shoyou to count to one hundred not long ago, and turned out, the only reason he hesitated was because he didn’t know _how_ to count to a hundred.

Meanwhile, Kiyoomi’s head was looming in thoughts such as, _do kindergarteners even learn things at school?_ They were so young, but he supposes that the academy still wants the brightest students, which is why even to get into their nursery program the child had to undergo an admissions test, along with a family interview. Again, such pretentious fucks. 

According to Kiyoomi’s intel (credits to Akaashi), Oikawa Tobio was admitted into the school last year via the nursery program. Which means he doesn’t need to undergo an admissions test this time, he’s automatically moved up into the actual academy, lucky bastard. All the more reason they need to hunker down and prepare Shoyou to the best of his abilities - they can prepare all they want for the interview, but if Shoyou doesn’t even pass the admissions test, it’s all over. 

“Papa, I don’t wanna study…” Shoyou pouted, his hand too small to grip the pencil he was given to write with properly. 

“But we need to prepare you for the admissions test, Shoyou,” Kiyoomi replied, sifting through more random books he procured titled _How to help your child excel fast!_ and so on. 

“Maybe writing is a bit advanced, Omi?” Atsumu tried to say nicely. “How about we try this uh…” he leaned into the random book he picked up to read, labelled _How to help early age children learn_ , “Experiential learning? Children his age learn by experiencing things, they suggest going out to educational places, like museums or zoos.” 

Shoyou’s eyes lit up just from the conversation, “I want to go to the zoo!!!”

Atsumu patted his head, a soft smile on his lips that Kiyoomi couldn’t help but notice. “Well then, what do you say, Omi-omi? Shall we go to the zoo tomorrow?” 

  
  


__________________________

  
  
  


It was still cold out, spring yet to come and the breeze cooler than what would be considered a comfortable temperature. Even so, the zoo was filled with families galore, children running and laughing and gawking at all the animals still outside. There was a kind of energy that made you feel like you were in a different space from the rest of the world entirely, full of things to explore and discover. Shoyou was of course not only infected with the excitement, but likely one of the core sources of it. He was running and climbing and pointing with all of his energy and might, completely fascinated by it all. 

What was also fascinating (for Atsumu, at least), was Kiyoomi. At every exhibition for each kind of animal, he’d give some kind of fact that was not only easy to understand for Shoyou, but exciting enough for him to be interested in listening to Kiyoomi’s words. It became so interesting for Shoyou that he would go around asking for facts himself every time they entered a new exhibit. 

“Papa! What about these penguins?” Shoyou stood with his face literally glued to the glass, watching the 100 or so penguins swim and waddle around in their habitat. 

“Well they’re birds, just like those big hawks you saw earlier, but instead of having wings they have flippers.” 

“Why?” Shoyou tilted his head back, staring at Kiyoomi wide-eyed upside down. 

“You see how well they can swim? They need flippers for that.” After some thought, he added. “And you know, just like me and you, each penguin has its own unique voice that they use to call out to each other.”

“Whoaaaaaa.”

Atsumu grinned as they walked on, Shoyou once again darting just a little ways ahead (but since the kidnappers incident, he is now mindful of going ahead only a little bit and glancing back to make sure he sees his fathers are nearby). Atsumu huddled into his scarf a little more, even though they were inside a tunnel to see the penguins from underneath the water, it was still cold here.

“And why are you grinning?” Kiyoomi found himself asking as he stole a glance. 

Atsumu grinned some more, “I think it’s endearing that you know all these facts about the animals we’re seeing today.” 

“Hmm, well, I want to make the most of this experiential learning thing.”

“Huh? I was under the impression you just happened to be crazy about animals and knew all these facts, but did you...learn them all? For Shoyou?”

Kiyoomi tilted his head, confused. “Yes? I memorized them last night so I could tell these facts to him today.”

“Heh,” Atsumu couldn’t help but smile. “This side of you is cute, Omi.” 

Kiyoomi instinctively fixed his hair to distract himself from embarrassment. “Whatever.”

They caught up to Shoyou watching another set of penguins, but he was shivering, looking a little spaced out. Kiyoomi opted to give him his gloves to help his hands that had been touching cold glass this whole time warm up a little bit. 

As he crouched down to help Shoyou put them on, Shoyou suddenly pointed his finger to the glass. “Look papa, there’s one that looks a little sick, towards the back.”

“Ah, you’re right. Maybe that one needs to go to bed and drink some medicine.” He replied with a curt nod. 

Atsumu lifted up Shoyou in his arms and checked his temperature with his own. “You look a bit pale munchkin, are ya cold?” Atsumu seemed to be naturally good at figuring out when something was wrong with Shoyou - or rather, when he was having one of his premonistic episodes. Shoyou just nodded his head, still feeling a bit dazed as he hugged Atsumu for warmth.

A crowd had gathered in the tunnel, making it that much harder to proceed with so many bodies shuffling out. Kiyoomi was only a step or two behind Atsumu and Shoyou, but was forced to back out and slip through a staff door nearest to him. He fumbled in his coat pocket and cursed under his breath, another damn burner phone with a number. 

“I see you’ve made it to the penguins already, Agent Jackal.” The Handler began without even waiting for him to speak.

“Are you having me tailed and then assigning me jobs that are most convenient?” Kiyoomi almost clicked his tongue. “I’m seriously going to refuse this time.”

“I suggest you don’t, otherwise there will be a lot of casualties, including Shoyou and Atsumu.” 

Now she had his attention. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“There were rumours that someone’s bringing a bomb mechanism to the zoo today,” The Handler went on to explain. “My people have checked all exhibitions with no signs of anything suspicious, but I just received a tip a minute ago saying the bomb parts are inside one of the penguins.” 

“What the fuck. What the fuck? Who brings a bomb to the fucking _zoo_?” Kiyoomi was already rolling up his sleeves, making his way to the employee locker room at the end of the hallway. 

“And so, I’ll take it that you have it handled, right Jackal?” 

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, even though there was no one there to see him being stressed and miserable. “Like I have a choice.” 

He hung up the phone and carefully entered the locker room, searching for signs of any people. Towards the back, he could hear one lone man whistling as he put on his uniform.

This will do, he supposes. 

  
  


__________________________

  
  
  


“Where in the world did he go?” Atsumu was talking out loud, searching through the dispersing crowd outside the tunnel for his husband. He held Shoyou in one arm and was attempting to call Kiyoomi with the other, but to no avail. 

Even though Atsumu didn’t know where he went, Shoyou did. 

He’d had a series of dreams and visions the past few days, which he understands now were all leading up to this point. Just as he saw in his visions, Shoyou had seen a man going around to all the hawks in the exhibition to do a check, touching their wings, looking inside their mouths. And then he saw someone doing it to the lions, to the animals in the petting zoo area, and then the penguins. The one who checked the mouth of the penguins looked so familiar, and yet, Shoyou couldn’t see it clearly. 

Until now. He had seen himself pointing out the sick penguin to Kiyoomi as he gave him his gloves just minutes before Kiyoomi came over and actually did it. Shoyou had experienced this premonition just before the event happened, causing him to feel a strange kind of dizziness that took longer for him to recover from than usual. But even in a daze, he was able to understand that this was something his papa must do, and it must be important. 

“Dad, I gotta pee. Really bad.” He kicked around to pretend like he really needed to go, forcing an urgency to his request. He had to buy Kiyoomi time to find the penguin before Atsumu got suspicious. 

“Eh, right now?” Atsumu looked around, his call still not connecting to Kiyoomi after the third try. “There probably isn’t a bathroom too far from here, let’s walk around and look for one. Hopefully by then we’ll find papa.” 

Shoyou had no idea what it all meant, just that the universe told him so that whatever penguin papa needed to look for, it was there, the sick one in the back, he just needed to get to it in time. 

He had no idea that he had just pointed out the mechanisms for a freaking _bomb_. 

  
  


__________________________

  
  
  


Kiyoomi had borrowed the uniform of a currently unconscious caretaker of the penguins and had gotten to work, attempting to avoid interaction with other employees. There was just one problem, someone else had the same idea to check the penguins at exactly the same time that he did, and he had a gut feeling it wasn’t another AWA agent, it was likely the one that would be in charge of putting together the bomb and detonating it. 

_I can’t catch a break lately, can I?_ Kiyoomi just wanted one day where he could go around without a mission looming behind his back. He slipped on a pair of gloves and lowered his hat, as he stealthily caught up to the other caretaker from behind, hitting her in the back of her neck at a pressure point. She passed out almost immediately and Kiyoomi dragged her away, praying that no child just witnessed him do that. 

Next was the penguin. Shoyou had coincidentally(?) pointed it out earlier, a sick penguin in the back somewhere. It was laying down on the ground, surrounded by others in its flock, clearly in great discomfort. Kiyoomi bent on one knee and pried open its mouth, immediately noticing that there was a string tied around its tongue. As he pulled, pieces of what was clearly some kind of mechanism likely for the bomb came out. 

He pocketed the pieces and began to get up, but was tackled into the water. 

She had recovered fast and had already grabbed the pieces out of his pocket, kicking him in the stomach. As she swam back up, he pulled onto her leg and twisted her foot, badly enough that she got distracted from the sudden jolt of pain, allowing Kiyoomi to snatch the bomb pieces from her hand and smack her in the face as he swam past her. 

He had to book it when he got back up on land. Drenched from head to toe, he practically slipped his entire way through the area and bursted into the hallway that led into the employee locker room. Two men stood there, less surprised about the bomb pieces in his hand and more so that their accomplice failed. They pulled out their guns, one man already charging towards Kiyoomi with his hand out to grab the bomb mechanism. 

Someone else shot a gun from the left side of the hallway, they all turned to look while the man shot dropped to his knees, clutching his bleeding side. The Handler, clad in her favourite suit and tie, gave a smirk, “How do I look today?” 

“Lovely, but I’m the one that’s just dripping with good looks, don’t you think?” Kiyoomi took the opportunity to knee the distracted man in the stomach, knocking his gun out of his hand and kicking it far away across the hallway. The man tried to grab onto Kiyoomi’s arm while he was gearing up a swing, but instead was shot in the arm by the Handler. Kiyoomi decided to stop here, seeing as both men were trembling from being shot. Other AWA agents in disguise burst into the hallway, their guns raised at the two men on the ground.

“A little aggressive today, aren’t we?” He asked as he tossed over the bomb pieces to her. 

“I don’t like people who actively want to kill children,” she replied, eyeing down the two men with great resentment. “I’m sure you feel the same.” 

He nodded, a clear picture of Shoyou’s smiling face in the back of his mind. He ran his hand through his drenched hair and reminded himself that he’s on a mission to protect that child. He needed to justify it in mission terms. He just _had to_. 

“Do you think Atsumu will buy the _‘I’m dripping with good looks’_ line when he finds me soaked?”

The Handler smiled, “There’s a contest going on in the zoo for whoever can stay in the ice water the longest. Try it out and see if you can win?” 

“Oh, so convenient.” Kiyoomi said sarcastically, his eyes rolling. “I wonder if it was really the zoo that came up with this or if AWA just so happens to have weird connections that makes these things up on the fly. Ugh. Next time I’m just going to let the bomb explode, okay?” 

“Hehe, sure, sure.” 

  
  


_________________________

  
  


  
  


“Err, so, not only did you get lost in the crowd after we left the tunnel, but you entered a contest where you have to hold your breath under ice water and you actually... _won_?” Atsumu and Kiyoomi looked down at Shoyou, completely energized with his new, giant stuffed penguin (the contest prize).

“I didn’t want to tell you on the phone because….well, even I admit it was a bit ridiculous,” Kiyoomi wasn’t bad at lying, but this was the first time that he sure as hell felt stupid doing it. 

Atsumu looked and felt stunned, but he only sighed in response, wrapping his scarf around the shivering Kiyoomi. The staff had given him a towel for his hair and a jacket with the zoo logo on it, but it was certainly not enough to keep him warm in this weather by any means. 

“You definitely went overboard this time,” Atsumu said, pulling off his own beanie and placing it on Kiyoomi’s cold and wet head. “But I don’t mind it. This side of you, working hard for Shoyou, is very cute.” 

Even though Atsumu had decided he’d allow himself to call Kiyoomi cute sometimes, he felt a bit of embarrassment saying it after all. Kiyoomi was a serious guy, way too hard working and absorbed into life - it’s like he’s always searching for ways to progress further, trying to learn everything there is to know about anything, trying to perfect it over and over. 

But it was cool, to Atsumu anyway. He liked it. He liked that Kiyoomi tried to go above and beyond for things that were important to him. It suited his perpetually tired yet handsome face, the way he pretended to not care even though he cared a whole lot. 

After staring at him long enough, Atsumu decided he’d try to work harder himself. “We’re not going home just yet, Shoyou still hasn’t seen any of the reptiles. This time I’m making sure you stay with us, got it?” 

Kiyoomi felt Atsumu’s hand slip into his, intertwined, and decided that fine, he’d try to stay with them the rest of the way, even if the cold catches up to him. At the very least, he appreciates that his right hand will be warm. 

  
  


___________________________

  
  


_Oh I’ll burn  
_ _I’ll taste the fire  
_ _Feel it sizzle  
_ _Hot in my veins  
_ _Seep into my bones_

  
  


Despite their best efforts, Shoyou just barely made it through the admissions test for Karasuno Academy. Out of 300 applicants, only 60 new kids will be allowed into the academy since so many were already placed through the nursery program. Kiyoomi had hoped that they would have better chances at being regarded if Shoyou managed to place somewhere in the top 20 students. Regardless of the fact that he passed the admissions test, he still ranked 259th out of the 300 applicants. Kiyoomi couldn’t tell if kindergarten was early enough to know whether your child was good at school or not. 

Nevertheless, they still had their chance if the Sakusa family together made a good impression in the joint interview. Kiyoomi had to bet all his money on that interview, because even the AWA connections couldn’t override the decisions of those in charge of admitting students, the fucking bastards.

Kiyoomi had Akaashi look into the ones conducting the interview and had begun a thorough analysis of them - what are these three people like, what do they value, what do they hate, what are their temperaments, what are their interests, and so on. He spent a certain amount of time trailing each of them too, whenever there wasn’t a mission on top of his mission (please give him a break already, Handler). Many evenings and days off he spent preparing Atsumu and Shoyou for the interview as well, having drafted 200 questions that he guessed might be asked, depending on the person who’s asking. He knew he was being meticulous again, trying to cover all the bases, trying to resume control over the mission that is actually just a flowing current more than it is anything else, if he had to admit. 

But he appreciates the cooperation. Shoyou is a child, so he’s not always in the mood to rehearse his answers or think too clearly about what he should say, but he tries as long as there’s a reward at the end, like a cookie or an extra bedtime story. And then there’s Atsumu, who keeps going beyond what Kiyoomi had imagined him to be like (and now he feels a bit guilty for ever doubting someone like him by first impression). Although he’s not as patient, he’s clever, and he can read the room well. He can manage to answer questions the way Kiyoomi wants him to and does it like it’s natural. 

Kiyoomi almost feels bad for using Atsumu like this. Even though Atsumu was told this was all a temporary setup to get Shoyou into the school, even though he really doesn’t have to do anything because that’s technically Kiyoomi’s job, he still does it with a smile on his face, determined to help in some way. Somehow, Kiyoomi almost feels like he doesn’t deserve Atsumu, but he decides to put away that thought for another time. 

Right now, their family sits at a long table in a large windowed office, across the three men conducting their interview for today: Ushijima Wakatoshi, Terushima Yuuji, and Tsukishima Kei. Out of the three, Kiyoomi guesses that the Sakusa family would likely appeal to Ushijima the most, who seems to be a straight-forward and pretty blunt guy. On the other hand, Terushima Yuuji and Tsukishima Kei are going to be the greatest challenges. Tsukishima is someone who likes to prod and pry into the families’ businesses, trying to lure out any negative points about them to get a clearer picture. He was definitely someone they had to be weary of the most when answering questions. But Terushima, from what Kiyoomi understands, is kind of a hit and miss. He’ll either be very interested or very unregarding, it simply matters on whether you make some kind of impression on him or not (and it seems it doesn’t always need to be the good kind of impression either, so long as it’s entertaining in some sense). 

The interview began with very standard questions, tell us about yourselves, what do you work as, where did you live before, etc. It felt completely normal and Kiyoomi dared to think that perhaps he stressed about this for nothing. However, he also noted that all questions so far were asked by Ushijima, the other two only made notes on their clipboards and sat silently. At a pause, Ushijima looked at his watch and put down his own clipboard to face them. 

“Now we would like to ask some other personal questions based on our assumptions of you so far. If I may, please tell us a bit about how you parent your child.” Ushijima began.

“Like most parents we always do bedtime stories and try to work on learning new things together,” Kiyoomi explained. “However, recently we found that experiential learning seems to help Shoyou quite a bit, so we try to go out together to educational places to optimize his learning.”

“Are you only focused on teaching your child?” Tsukishima asked, it seemed the prodding had finally begun. 

Kiyoomi gave his business smile, “Of course not, he’s still so young. It’s important for children to learn and grow themselves.”

“Not to mention that children should have fun,” Atsumu added. “Having an environment that fosters not just learning but makes it fun is part of it, I would say.”

“Then, what kind of parents do you consider yourselves in terms of discipline?” Ushijima asked, changing up the conversation. “Seeing as you value _fun._ ”

This seemed to have caught Terushima’s attention, who had yet to ask any questions so far. Kiyoomi took the lead to answer, “Kids lose motivation if things aren’t fun, so we try to keep a balance and be creative. However, rules are rules, and Shoyou has never had any desires for breaking them.”

Atsumu smiled as he patted Shoyou’s head. “He’s a really good kid, so we haven’t had much trouble with him at all in that regard.”

“Oh really?” Tsukishima commented, an interesting smirk on his lips. “Not even for bath time? For going to bed? I’m wondering if you’re really qualified to say that, Atsumu-san, was it?”

Ah, here we go. Kiyoomi had prepped Shoyou and Atsumu for this, telling them to be prepared for any snide remarks or bordering cruel comments. The key was to take it all in stride, be patient, and never to lose your calm. It was imperative for them to not be deterred by anything thrown at them in the interview, making a good impression is the most important, even if it means to take an insult or two. 

“And what do you mean by that, if I may ask?” Atsumu sounded calm, for now. 

“Well looking at your application here, it says that you married into this family just a year ago, right?” Tsukishima flipped over a page on the clipboard he was holding, pointing to the spot he referred to as he showed Atsumu. “What’s a recent step-father going to know about a kid he hasn’t been around? I’m a bit curious.”

Now Terushima was truly interested, as he sat up and made eye contact with Atsumu. “Ah, seriously? I’m not into guys with children but if this one’s not your kid, how about me?”

“Wh-What? What about you?” Atsumu replied, suddenly confused but he fought to maintain his composure. He couldn’t believe what was happening right now, one was insulting him, the other was hitting on him, and the last guy didn't even look in his general direction, _what the hell is going on_.

Kiyoomi decided to pitch in, ignoring Terushima’s advances. “Although it has only been a year, Atsumu has been a wonderful parent to our child. He is the one who realized Shoyou was an experiential learner and has taken great care of him just like any real parent would.” 

“Doesn’t that hint towards _your_ lack of attention then, Kiyoomi-san?” Tsukishima asked, an eyebrow raised. 

“Raising a kid on your own as a single parent is no easy feat, I am truly grateful for Atsumu’s help.” Perhaps that was too serious of an answer, but it was the truth for Kiyoomi. 

Ushijima nodded, “It takes great resolve to understand one’s own weakness, and then to take action in the right direction.” 

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “It’s not that deep, Ushijima-san. But let’s change topics. Shoyou-kun, how would you describe your time at home?”

Shoyou had spaced out for parts of the interview thus far, suddenly sitting up in his seat so he could make eye contact with the questioners just like papa told him to. He understood that the one with the glasses didn’t like dad too much, so he was feeling a bit restless when being asked a question by him. 

“Home is really fun!!” Shoyou replied with much enthusiasm, his goal to change their minds about dad clear in his mind. “Papa and dad read me books and play games with me and take me to see the animals and get me ice cream!” 

“And what are your fathers like at home, Shoyou-kun,” Terushima asked, leaning forward. “Do they get along well? Do they fight? Do they hug and kiss and act grossly in love?”

What a disgusting question, was all Kiyoomi could think. This guy was totally a flirt, the kind of guys Kiyoomi really can’t stand being around too long for. 

Shoyou was clearly confused by so many questions being asked at once. “They don’t fight, they sleep in the same room and um, they hug and kiss me a lot!”

Kiyoomi and Atsumu remembered telling Shoyou not to tell others they sleep in different bedrooms and realized that kids really do recall the most random things they’ve been told. Kiyoomi had begun to worry about whether saying it like that made it sound suspicious, but he continued hoping for the best. 

“But do they hug and kiss _each other_ , hm?” Terushima asked with a smirk, glancing at Atsumu in particular. 

The blatant eyeing at Atsumu was starting to piss Kiyoomi off more and more. To begin with, Terushima was a flirt, and now he was making Atsumu uncomfortable, which by default made Kiyoomi uncomfortable and, if he’s being a tiny bit honest with himself, annoyed. But only because Atsumu was uncomfortable and not because of his own feelings towards it. 

Kiyoomi couldn’t handle putting anything about his own feelings or emotions into words. He felt like if he did, if he even allowed himself to feel anything for even a second, it would take root in his heart, spread through his veins, and then when the time comes, he’d find himself infected with a sadness in his whole body that he wouldn’t know how to deal with. He had to be calm here, he had to ignore it, hide away any feelings that were lurking and itching to burst out. 

“Let’s get back on track, shall we?” Ushijima interjected. “Final question then Shoyou-kun, what would you like to do when you grow up?” 

Shoyou, who had just recently watched Kiki’s Delivery Service, decided to answer the question by throwing his hands in the air in sheer excitement. “I want to fly!”

The interviewers were confused by the response, but decided not to take up more time. Thus, the interview was concluded. While other families were escorted in and out by other administrative staff members of the school, Kiyoomi felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as they made their way to the door escorted out by Terushima, who was touching Atsumu’s lower back, guiding the way like it was such a casual thing to do. Kiyoomi even witnessed Terushima shamelessly slip his number in Atsumu’s hand and whisper for him to call when he wants to divorce, or even before that, that fucking bastard.

Rationalizing the situation would’ve made more sense. If Kiyoomi had realized that perhaps Terushima did this to all families as means of testing their stability and dynamic, that perhaps he wasn’t _actually_ hitting on Atsumu, he might’ve just let it slide, walk away like nothing happened. The spy in him should’ve come to that conclusion, the meticulous, methodological, and overthinking part of him should’ve seen that coming. But instead, his brain began to give him all the reasons to be angry - the interview was done, no one could see them, and Atsumu shouldn’t have to put up with some strange guy skirting the border of harassment like it’s okay. Kiyoomi wished he could say something like: especially _in front of me_ but he hid the thought instead. There was enough justification outside of his own personal feelings that he couldn’t allow in this moment. 

Before Terushima could close the door, Kiyoomi’s hand came in the way, pushing the door open just enough to grab Terushima by his collar. He snatched the paper with Terushima’s number from Atsumu’s hand, crumpled it, and then threw it in Terushima’s face. 

“Don’t touch him, don’t talk to him, don’t even look his way, got it?” He let go of his collar and closed the rest of the doorway himself. 

  
  


__________________________

  
_There’s just something about you  
_ _I can’t place  
_ _I don’t know where you belong,  
_ _Don’t know where you go  
_ _I want you in my heart  
_ _But I’m afraid you’ll slip through its cracks_  
  


Atsumu couldn’t sleep. It was his first time in a long time that he felt restless laying in bed, his heart beating fast, his hands feeling hot. It was Kiyoomi on his mind - he’s been on his mind a lot lately, come to think of it - and Atsumu couldn’t help but mull over the same bits and pieces in his head, over and over, trying to make sense of it all, trying to justify it in some way, trying his best not to have too much hope. Because that was the one luxury even he knows he doesn’t have in this relationship: even if he comes to like the way things are now, there may come a time where Kiyoomi doesn’t need him anymore, where Shoyou won’t need him anymore, and just the thought of not seeing their faces everyday rattles his heart. Does he even deserve this much happiness, given what he’s done in his life? 

Probably not, but the one thing that Atsumu can’t help is how greedy he is. How he wants things even if he doesn’t deserve them, he wants to reach them somehow and he always works that much harder so that he can. Most people say that their reason to live is their ambition to do better, or they want to work harder. But for Atsumu, he wants it all because he’s jealous of those that have it all. That’s his fuel, and he burns with it, feels it when he sees his own brother in love, feels it when he sees the love and trust between Kiyoomi and Shoyou and he thinks, hopes, desperately wants, to be loved and trusted just like that. 

They’ve never gone into each other’s rooms. Atsumu had asked no one to go into his for privacy purposes, as Kiyoomi did the same. He didn’t know what Kiyoomi would be hiding in his room, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was expose himself, what with his knife and dagger collection, his guns, his plethora of suits and laundry that he hasn’t gotten around to that definitely smells like blood, if not gunpowder or alcohol. And yet there was an urge in him to knock on Kiyoomi’s door, invade his space, rattle his bones in an attempt to find out if what he did today was something with meaning or if it was all part of the husband's act. 

Atsumu paced outside Kiyoomi’s door for quite a while, the time well past 2am, and the house was so silent that even just him making small movements caused his clothes to rustle and make sound. He contemplated too many things, too many scenarios that could cause a rift between them as they are now. But that was also the problem: Atsumu couldn't help but feel an attraction to Kiyoomi from the first day they met. And it gets stronger, the more he sees him, the more times Kiyoomi does things out of thin air that surprise and uplift and confuse Atsumu. He feels it in the pit of his stomach, in the beating of his heart, in the heat coursing through him. 

“Normally I never feel your presence, but tonight you’re being a bit careless?” Kiyoomi was whispering, but the silence carried his voice clear. He closed the door to his room and decided to stand across Atsumu in the hallway, leaning onto the wall with his arms crossed. His hair was tousled and Atsumu supposed he probably wanted to have a purpose for the neon shirts he had collected this whole time, so he was wearing a shirt far too bright for the dark night with his plaid pajamas. It was as ridiculous as it was endearing. 

“I get restless when I can’t sleep,” Atsumu found himself stepping just a bit closer to him, so that his whispers could be heard, although they were clear already. 

“Are you worried about something?” Kiyoomi asked, and then opted to add, “Is it about what happened at the interview today?”

Atsumu’s heart took a dip in his stomach and lurched right back into its place in his chest. Was Kiyoomi thinking the same thing as him? Was he concerned about it too? Did he want to clear it up? 

“Actually, yeah. It’s been on my mind…”

Kiyoomi frowned, to Atsumu’s surprise. “Figures, a random guy touching you and hitting on you during an interview is practically harassment. I’m sorry, I made you endure something like that for the sake of Shoyou.”

As sweet as his concern was for Atsumu’s comfort, Atsumu couldn’t help but feel like Kiyoomi had missed the point. He decided to prod a bit further. “Ah I mean yeah that happened too, but I was more so thinking about what you did afterwards. And what you said to him.” 

Kiyoomi tilted his head in confusion at first, staring blankly at Atsumu. He then straightened up, suddenly in realization. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have told someone not to look at you or talk to you. That’s up for you to decide, not me. I apologize I overstepped.”

“That’s not it, you fool.” Atsumu replied, his palm to his face in frustration. He wanted honesty. He wanted love and trust and all the good things that other people have. He wanted to know _why_ Kiyoomi told someone else not to touch him or talk to him or even look at him. He wanted to know if his words and actions meant something more, even if he didn’t realize it. Did Kiyoomi mean it with all the intents of a fake husband or something else? Was it jealousy or concern of a friend? 

Atsumu had begun to wonder where the boundaries lied. At what point is something for an act and another is something real. He couldn’t place it, didn’t know where things belonged anymore. All he knew was that lines were becoming blurred and his pounding heart was the culprit. 

Perhaps Kiyoomi hadn’t crossed the line yet, or maybe he didn’t want to be the one crossing it. But that didn’t matter to Atsumu at that very moment. He suddenly felt an exhaustion sweep over him and decided that this much was enough, for now. He was satisfied knowing Kiyoomi cares about him and his feelings enough to defend him, even if he did it on impulse, even if he did it as an act, even if he was just being a good person. It was good enough. 

Well, close to good enough.

Atsumu sighed, “You know what, it’s fine. You didn’t overstep, I’m actually really happy you did that for me.” 

“Um, really? You don’t look happy…”

“I said it’s fine!” He was practically whisper-yelling at this point. He sighed once more and stepped up to him, his fingers skirting Kiyoomi’s jaw and then his lips brushing against his cheek, softly, but lingering, in a deep thought. Atsumu could feel Kiyoomi stiffen under his fingertips, eyes wide in surprise as he kissed his cheek. He felt like doing it again, but he knew he had to stop here, stop the impulse before it gets worse, stop his heart from giving him all these misguided directions. “I’m happy, and this is your thank you. Good night.” 

“...Good night.” 

__________________________

  
  
  


_Have a war with me  
_ _Nice and slow  
_ _Between breaths  
_ _Your hands, my lips  
_ _Touch me whole  
_ _I’ll pull you apart_

  
  


Atsumu recalled within several moments that so much has happened. He got married and has a child now, had to prepare for and attend the family interview, beat up a gang of kidnappers trying to take Shoyou, _etcetera_. It didn’t even feel like time had passed as quickly as it had, bringing Atsumu to over a month since he’d moved into this house with Kiyoomi and Shoyou and having this new life. Despite the hiccups in between, he felt like things were going well, really great even, he dare say. But something Atsumu always forgets when things are going well is that there’s always a reality he must face. Today’s reality stood in the entryway of his home, a mirror image of himself. 

“Wait...Samu? What the hell are ya doing here?” That was all Atsumu could muster up as his twin walked in, slipping off his shoes and placing the food he had prepared for him on the counter with a thud, for extra dramatic emphasis. 

Osamu has a temper just like Atsumu, but he’s more subtle about it, more playful even. But today’s look told even Atsumu that he was probably more angry than he was feeling playful. Osamu turned to face Atsumu, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, and looked at him with hurt in his eyes. “Did you know that I found out you’re married, have a child, and live with your family now at this address, from, get this, Bokuto while he had a mouth full of rice?” 

It had dawned on Atsumu that with everything happening, he had forgotten to mention all this to his own brother. He froze, suddenly trying to decipher all the right ways he could go about this without Osamu feeling too hurt or too curious to pry. They’ve been texting this whole time, Atsumu missed a lot of calls from Osamu but he returned at least two, he thinks. But how, in all that did he forget to mention anything…

“Sorry to interrupt, but are you perhaps Miya Osamu?” Although still frozen in place, Atsumu watched Kiyoomi quietly shut Shoyou’s door and come over to the two of them, his best smile on his face. “I’ve been meaning to ask Atsumu to introduce us to you, it’s nice to finally meet you, I’m Sakusa Kiyoomi.”

Osamu sized him up with a distant glare. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Atsumu, per se. It’s just, Osamu isn’t dumb, and he catches onto things, so he knows when to ask questions and when to leave them be, for the sake of peace. When the twins were little, Atsumu clearly got into something that was, let’s just say, not something Osamu could ask about. But he seemed happy, even if whatever he was doing was dubious by all means. And the thing was, Osamu wanted so badly to become someone independent so that Atsumu didn’t have to do his dubious work anymore. It’s why he opened his restaurant, why he studied, why he’s trying to make a life that pays enough for the both of them to live. Osamu was glad when Atsumu took up the job at the office, but he also knew that Atsumu was probably still doing side jobs with his sketchy employer from when they were kids, he was sure of it. 

And right now, Atsumu could hide all of that if he wanted to, fine, but a husband? A kid? At the very least, couldn’t he tell Osamu that? This is supposed to be for happiness and normalcy, right? Osamu needed to be sure that Atsumu wasn’t coerced into some crazy marriage for money laundering or some murder or something, otherwise he was going to lose his fucking mind. All these years and he hasn’t asked questions, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t save his idiot thrill-seeking brother. 

So now, just _who_ was this mysterious Sakusa Kiyoomi? 

“Likewise. Although I’ll be honest, I’m a little pissed that I wasn’t even told about this marriage, so what gives?” Osamu sounded a lot more bitter than he intended, but oh well. No matter how hot this Kiyoomi guy is, he’s going to make sure he knows he’s not going to be nice to him right away. 

Kiyoomi bowed his head, a gesture shocking enough for Atsumu to come out of his frozen stance. “I’m really sorry, I’m to blame for that. Atsumu and I had gotten married kind of out of impulse, but we couldn’t be together because I lived far away from him with my son. I didn’t want him to endure any weird rumours about why he’s not living with his family so I told him it’s best to keep it a secret until we move in together.” 

Atsumu was once again impressed at how smoothly Kiyoomi handled things. But even so, especially when it comes to Osamu, this was something he ought to deal with on his own. Kiyoomi was already doing so much for him as it is. 

“Actually, Samu, I’ve a confession,” Atsumu started, Kiyoomi suddenly alert and eyeing him peculiarly across the room. “The reason you weren’t told all of this was because...I actually _forgot._ ”

Kiyoomi and Osamu wore the same disappointed expression on their faces in response. 

After a long silence, Osamu finally spoke. “Why do you always forget the important things, Tsumu,” he said, his palm to his face in disbelief. “This is just like that time you forgot to tell me that Rintaro was waiting to confess to me at the clock tower. You told me 4 hours after I was supposed to go there, and he actually waited there in the cold the whole time.” 

On the other hand, Kiyoomi stared at the two brothers in amazement and contempt all at once. 

It was when the three sat together for tea that the questions from Osamu began. Where did they meet (at Akaashi’s IT service office), who confessed to who (Kiyoomi claimed it was him, enamoured by Atsumu who was so sweet to Shoyou that he couldn’t help it, to which Atsumu couldn’t help but blush at, for some reason), where is the kid (soundly asleep in his room, please meet him next time), what does Kiyoomi do for a living (psychologist), how does he cope with Atsumu’s cooking (Kiyoomi handles all cooking, because Atsumu is a disaster in the kitchen, Osamu heartily agrees), and so on. 

Everything felt smooth, Kiyoomi and Atsumu had talked about their story before and they had made the proper precautions as such. Before Kiyoomi even greeted Osamu, he had deciphered it was him and had setup the whole “young couple in love package” - the master bedroom that is originally Kiyoomi’s was transformed into a couple’s room, filled with a comforter with a giant heart and yes/no pillows and roses on the bedside table, the bathroom had them sharing a cup to hold their toothbrushes that read “I love you”, the office had sticky notes from the both of them professing their love to one another, and so on. If Osamu wanted to wander around, he would have no choice but to think this is a very normal couple who is certainly in love. 

But Osamu wanted to try one last trick up his sleeve, before he was satisfied.

“So prove it to me,” Osamu said abruptly, the hint of a smirk pulling at the edges of his lips. “If you two have been married for a year, then show me a kiss. It shouldn’t be hard to do at this point, right?” 

Normally, Osamu’s jeers and tricks only affected Atsumu to a certain extent, given that it was always clear he was playing around and being, well, _an annoying twin brother_ . But even with the seriousness of the conversation, here is Osamu playing, asking something so absurd that Atsumu actually _froze_ for the second time today. 

It was Kiyoomi that broke the silence, his best poker face shown as if he wasn’t affected at all (he was, the light blush on his cheeks was only visible to the one sitting closest to him), “I mean, that’s totally fine with me as long as Atsumu condones…”. He looked over at Atsumu, eyes wide in alertness. 

The suddenness of their eyes meeting made Atsumu flinch, and he tore apart their gaze to instead look at Osamu, wondering what to do next. It’s not like he’s never kissed anyone before, and clearly if they have to play the part of being husbands they have to do this sort of thing. But it was just so sudden, and Kiyoomi randomly said he was fine with it which scared Atsumu all the more. Why was he fine with it? What did it mean, if at all? Atsumu hadn’t readied his heart yet for this. Kissing hands or the cheek was different. This is far more intimate, something Atsumu had avoided thinking about because if he did it would be bad for his heart and his already confused state of mind. 

“Shut the fuck up, Samu,” Atsumu spat instead, more frantic sounding that he had intended to let on. “It’s gross doing this in front of my own brother, ya know?”

“I know, I don’t really want to see it either,” Osamu replied, deadpan, “but you’re leaving me little choice. I don’t know how else to verify it.” 

“Then, let’s just do it so Osamu-san can feel at ease, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi said, grabbing Atsumu’s hand with one and cupping his face to bring to him closer with the other. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi had a plan, even if it was haphazardly thrown together in his head. He’s a spy after all, he’s had to fake it with targets before and it was really no big deal. He’s kissed quite a few, made-out with more, but he even knows how to fake-kiss someone so that it looks real to other people (for undercover jobs). Their lips would still touch, very lightly, but that would be as far as he needed to go, especially if he turned Atsumu’s face at a certain angle, then it would be a cinch. 

Would be. Or should he say, would’ve been. 

All kinds of thoughts had flooded in for Atsumu, on the other hand. Here is Kiyoomi, his handsome face coming closer and closer and it felt like his heartbeat got louder and louder the closer he came. For just a brief moment, Atsumu could feel Kiyoomi’s lips press up against his and they were way damn softer than Atsumu would’ve ever imagined. His breath was caught for this moment, eyes wide open, watching this closed-eyes Kiyoomi that was so beyond close to him he felt like his breath was sucked away with this kiss. 

And this is just the kind of guy Atsumu was. He tried not to be this way, but impulses were so much harder to control. When he went shopping he wanted to buy everything, when he eats he wants to eat all of it, when he plays volleyball he wants to be the winner no matter what, when he starts cutting the necks of his targets he wants to kill all of the target’s henchmen too, and so on. When you put Kiyoomi within reach, lips already kissing his, there was no way Atsumu wouldn’t feel the dizziness and the drunkenness of impulse, boiling in his chest and spreading to his stomach. The second Kiyoomi tried to pull away, Atsumu’s fingers skirted around his jaw and pried open his lips in mere moments. 

And then his eyes closed, feeling the thrill of blindly tasting Kiyoomi as he rolled his tongue across Kiyoomi’s bottom lip (strawberry flavour?), and then trying to find his tongue. Kiyoomi was taken aback, eyes flying open in a small panic and his hand leaving Atsumu’s. But Atsumu felt his way back to Kiyoomi’s hand and grabbed his wrist, pulling himself closer. 

Despite his panic, Kiyoomi was not resisting. He let Atsumu kiss him deeper, his tongue finding its way to Kiyoomi’s with ease, not wrestling or in any urgency, but as if he was exploring his way with him, nice and slow, a light of tug of war. Kiyoomi played along, matching Atsumu’s pace, letting him taste and lick and pull wherever he wanted to like this was his space to discover to his heart’s content. And every part of Atsumu was burning with curiosity, feeling heated from knowing how surprised he made Kiyoomi, and then feeling him melt into the kiss anyway like it was no big deal. Why was Kiyoomi letting him do this? He wanted to ask him so badly, but that would mean stopping here, and Atsumu didn’t want that. 

However, someone else sure did want them to stop. 

The two jolted in surprise when they had a pillow cushion thrown at them, bringing them back into the room, into the reality that was far much a bigger space than the one that lay between their lips. 

“Okay, I have seen enough, please stop before I start puking,” Osamu’s face had contorted severely and he held his throat like he really was about to vomit. “I get it, you’re grossly in love. Sorry I doubted you, ugh.” 

  
  


____________________

  
  
  


That night, Atsumu and Kiyoomi lay in their own respective beds, staring at the ceiling and listening to their own hearts pound, louder and louder, as they remembered their kiss. Atsumu wondered all the reasons why Kiyoomi tasted so good, why he let him kiss deeper, why he matched his pace and why he let Atsumu see him blush and why he let him trail his hand on the side of his jaw and why the hell was he such a good kisser. 

Meanwhile, Kiyoomi’s heart pounded in confusion: why was his heart-pounding for Atsumu, like, in general? Kiyoomi was a spy, he was well-versed in seduction techniques and he’s kissed a lot of people, both the good ones and the bad, disgustingly slobbery ones. Atsumu is his fake husband. He is on a mission to protect a child. There was no room for heart-pounding, no room for emotions or attachment or relationships or anything like that. He didn’t have the luxury to be thinking about how thrilling it was to have Atsumu lick his bottom lip before kissing him deeply, how dizzy he felt when they did kiss, how he would’ve continued on and on if only Atsumu asked with flushed cheeks and lustful eyes. 

While Atsumu pondered on, wondering if it meant anything at all, Kiyoomi went into a restless sleep, trying to shut it out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments, the feedback I've received really motivates me and I really can't tell you how much I appreciate it!! 
> 
> The final two chapters are very exciting (in my humble opinion lol), can't wait to share them!


	4. Lihaaz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this earlier cuz why not!!

**Lihaaz (l-ey-h-ah-z): due respect, consideration; in reference to someone who does not overstep their boundaries, understands their place amongst others**

  
  


_ This part of me is broken  
_ _ It repeats, it repeats  
_ _ A desire to trust  
_ _ A doubt in manifest  
_ _ Over and over, again and again _

  
  


Akaashi Keiji was drained, to say the least. He admits, he took on too many jobs at once. Being a freelance informant meant taking whatever job that seems interesting and doing your powerful (and murderous) friends some favours whenever they asked, because sometimes it’s really that hard to say no (a lot of the time, he also admits, but hey, it’s part of the thrill). It had been well over a month since Keiji had started his own mission, Operation Get Bokuto-san To Fall In Love With Me So Hard He Proposes (he couldn’t think of a witty word that could encompass it all). Despite the fact that this mission had started off well, what with Atsumu, Bokuto’s co-worker and friend, marrying Kiyoomi, Keiji’s friend, there had been a great lack of progress since then. 

Keiji has had to babysit Shoyou more than once since this whole arrangement began, evenings when Atsumu was working late and Kiyoomi got called on a mission suddenly. Not once did he run into Bokuto just dropping by their house. He tried loitering around the office a couple times, but never saw Bokuto either. And with no computer breaking from Bokuto’s strong, mighty hands that Keiji will do his utmost best not to think about, there had been literally no interaction with Bokuto since. 

This meant that Keiji had to take matters into his own hands. He had to  _ create _ an opportunity to meet Bokuto, otherwise he feels as if his stress was going to overwhelm him too much. He needed to see him for a recharge, needed to test the waters out and see if he was interested in him at all. So now, it was Phase 2. 

“Jackal, doesn’t Atsumu-san forget his lunch all the time?” Keiji asked as soon as Kiyoomi picked up the phone. It took a second for a reply. 

“What in the world are you talking about now, Akaashi?”

“You know, I understand you’re very busy and don’t always have the time to go deliver lunch to your husband’s workplace. Being that I’m a wonderful friend of yours, I’ll offer to help you out, free of charge.”

“...Is this another attempt at you trying to meet Atsumu’s co-worker?” 

“ _ Obviously _ !” Keiji almost snapped, almost. “Now tell me when the hell their lunch is so I can go.”

“Heh, are you stressed lately Akaashi?” Kiyoomi laughed.

“I am literally dying. I need a recharge of those muscles. So. Badly.” 

“They have lunch at one for an hour, Atsumu likes sushi,  _ the expensive kind _ . He won’t be happy with a convenience store one.” 

Keiji rolled his eyes. “This ain’t about him, but fine. Say hi to Shoyou for me, bye.”

_____________________

  
  


Looking good wasn’t a problem for Akaashi Keiji. After many years of angsting about his own appearance, he came towards self-acceptance, which led to learning some confidence. It was a difficult journey, especially for someone who felt like he was made of nerves, constantly rattling his bones from anxiety. But he tried his best to branch out, to get as close to the thrills he wants to seek but can’t physically let himself experience. 

He strode into the tall office building in a long navy blue coat, unbuttoned to show his black sweater tucked into light gray pants with loafers. He spent an hour trying to decide what to wear but he felt like he did his work - he needed to look stylish but not like he was trying too hard, he had to play the natural beauty, that was what most people liked about him (and what he has come to like as well). 

It was more confusing trying to navigate inside, but he managed to make it to his destination. He spotted Atsumu’s blonde head even before he entered the area and hastily looked around for Bokuto. However, there was no one besides Atsumu, the other desk (presumably Bokuto’s) was left empty. 

“Akaashi? Uh, this is a surprise, what’s up?” Atsumu got up to meet him, a pen still in his hand. 

Keiji gave his best smile, “It seems you forgot your lunch today, Atsumu-san. Kiyoomi-san got busy with work suddenly so he sent me to deliver in his stead.” 

Atsumu gave him a confused expression, peeking inside the plastic bag handed off to him. He caught Keiji looking around once more and came to a realization that Bokuto wasn’t here, even though he actually was a minute ago. But Keiji didn’t know that, or at least, he wasn’t supposed to, he guesses. “Um, if you’re looking for Bokuto, he actually stepped out for the day. Sorry.” 

Atsumu almost felt bad for lying to someone who could express such disappointment. 

“Hah, bad timing I guess,” Keiji replied, shrugging. “He told me you like the expensive sushi. Enjoy.” 

“Thanks.” Atsumu waited for Keiji to leave completely, before heading over to the abandoned desk across the room. He sat on top of the desk, fishing out his sushi from the bag that was from an Osamu approved restaurant, thank goodness. “So, you wanna talk about why you’re hiding?”

Bokuto sighed and emerged from underneath his desk, flopping into his chair, a pout forming at his lips. When he simply looked all around the room instead of making eye contact with Atsumu, it was clear enough that he was avoiding the topic and wasn’t in the mood for it either. Figures.

“I’m a bit biased,” Atsumu began to say, mouthful of fatty tuna. “But since Akaashi is a friend of Omi and Shoyou really likes him as a babysitter, I can’t imagine him being a bad guy, ya know?” 

Bokuto peered at him. “Not really concerned about that part, Tsumu. Most people are good guys when they’re compared to  _ me _ .”

So that was it. Atsumu couldn’t say he didn’t understand because he really did, but he guesses that the difference between him and Bokuto was the fact that Atsumu didn’t care whether he deserved good things or not. Bokuto was as good at the job as Atsumu, just lacking in the “being sneaky” department. Jobs that require a quick hit and run were always given to Bokuto, who could go into anywhere and wreak havoc with a grin on his face. Atsumu, on the other, did things in silence - he did the covert jobs, the ones where they surround people inside a room and then he gets to kill all of them with his knives so that no one ever hears gunshots. 

Perhaps years of working assassination jobs wears a person down, makes you wonder about yourself and your moral compass. You’ve been told and can see that your targets are those that perpetrated the war some years back, you can tell they’re a bunch of drug lords and mob bosses and in general disgusting people. And yet you can’t help but look into a mirror and wonder just how different you are from them, if at all. 

“You’re thinking too deeply about it, Bo.” Atsumu patted Bokuto’s shoulder. 

“You’ve said it yourself before,” Bokuto said, his voice surprisingly stern. “I’m not a good liar, that’s why we even work our cover jobs together and have Chief Alisa as our boss here too. If I stray too far, I’ll end up exposing myself.”

“Maybe so, but you don’t know if you don’t try to take a leap.”

“It’s a lot easier for you to say that,” Bokuto said with a sigh. “I knew I liked Akaashi from the day we met. But I’m...afraid. He’s too good for someone like me.” 

Atsumu decided to smack Bokuto upside the head. “Everyone’s got skeletons in their closet, dumbass. And stop being so depressing, it doesn’t suit you.”

Bokuto pouted some more. “Can’t you at least share your sushi?”

“Did you not hear that it came from Omi? No way in hell.”

“What’s that go to do with it?” Bokuto asked, now feeling refreshed knowing their topic changed to Atsumu’s life. Bokuto was one of the people Atsumu decided to be honest with about his living situation, so long as he doesn’t blab about it to Osamu or anyone else they know. He made him freaking pinky promise that shit. “Didn’t you say that this was a temporary arrangement to get Osamu off your back about marriage? Hmmm?”

Atsumu, pretending not to be affected by his comment, turned to look at him with a smirk. “Are ya implying something Bo? Did you forget that you have a hot guy literally doing his best to just chat with you again and you hide under desks avoiding him?” 

“Are  _ you _ falling for your fake husband?”

“Have  _ you _ already fallen for your stranger?” 

They stared at each other in silence, jaws set. 

Bokuto was the first to give in, couldn’t bear it being so silent and tense. “I only like him a little. The fact that he’s not giving up on me is sorta cute.” 

Atsumu sighed. “Same goes for me. Except, we sorta. Kissed. Recently.” 

“...What?”

  
  


____________________

  
  
  


The letter arrived three days before school was supposed to begin, when the cherry blossoms had just begun to bloom and the cold of the winter was melting away. The way Kiyoomi’s heart beat holding the fate of world peace in his hands was truly something - he wished he could say defusing a bomb or breaking into a trafficking ring was harder, but really, Operation Noor had gone beyond what he had been training for as a spy all these years. This letter would make or break the mission, if Shoyou didn’t get into the school, they would have to take a totally different route in trying to secure a conversation with Oikawa Tooru and figuring out what his plans were. 

Normally in this kind of tense situation, Kiyoomi would simply sit in his own room to contemplate his life and the world and what not. But Shoyou sat comfortably in his lap on the couch, eager for him to open the letter too. He was so excited that his energy was causing Kiyoomi more tension, not to mention that Atsumu was leaning over his shoulder, his hands on both his shoulders, talking into his right ear. Kiyoomi was having a hard time concentrating on anything, like at all. 

“Both of you, be quiet for a second.” He said sternly, his breath caught when he realized Atsumu didn’t move away from his position at all, but rather decided to rest his chin on Kiyoomi’s shoulder, waiting for him to open the letter. 

“I can’t read papa!” Shoyou exclaimed as he extracted the letter out of the envelope. That was true, so Kiyoomi decided to read it out loud. 

Kiyoomi cleared his throat, the weight on his shoulder leaning closer. “We at the Karasuno Academy are pleased to present you with the official Letter of Admission, congratulations, Sakusa Shoyou and family.”

“YAYYYY!!” 

“Hey good job, Shoyou! You did it!” Atsumu ruffled Shoyou’s hair, still refusing to move. 

“I DID IT!!!”

Shoyou turned to Kiyoomi, his eyes expectant. Kiyoomi let out a sigh of relief and instinctively gave him a hug, patting his head. “You worked hard, Shoyou. Good work.” 

“What else does it say Omi?” 

Kiyoomi skimmed the letter, a whole bunch of formalities of where to get the uniform and the exorbitant fees that Kiyoomi decided would be hastily billed to AWA. His eyes landed towards the bottom of the letter. “Apparently it has comments from all three of the interviewers. From Ushijima…’Kiyoomi-san’s resolve to find a parent equipped and loving enough to help raise his child was commendable, I was moved by your concern and the action you took. Surely a child brought up by you will prosper at Karasuno.’”

Atsumu giggled into Kiyoomi’s ear, “I like this part about you too, Omi.”

Kiyoomi could only roll his eyes, feeling himself heat up and praying Atsumu doesn’t realize. “Now from Tsukishima…’It was kind of annoying to deal with a family as well-practiced as yours. Although I still have my suspicions about the circumstances of your marriage and doubts about your child, I lost in the vote. Congrats to you.’”

“Glasses is seriously an asshole, what the hell…” Atsumu’s grip on Kiyoomi’s shoulder tightened.

“Dad said a bad word!”

“Tsumu...come on.”

“Sorry, sorry, pretend ya didn’t hear that Shoyou.”

“And the last one, Terushima…’Don’t get me wrong, I normally never go for guys with children, okay? Obviously my offer still sits on the table for Atsumu, you are really hot.'”

Atsumu blushed in confusion, hearing it in Kiyoomi’s voice was not. The best idea. “Wha-what? What? What is this?”

Kiyoomi pretended like him calling Atsumu hot outloud wasn’t embarrassing at all. “Let me continue you fool. Where was I…’But I’ve changed my views, I would 100% be okay with Kiyoomi as well, what you said to me in defense of your mans was hot as hell, I’ll never forget it.’”

Shoyou looked up at his fathers in confusion and then decided to smack his hand onto Kiyoomi’s forehead, his other palm on his own. “Are you sick? Papa doesn’t feel hot to me?”

Kiyoomi let out a small laugh, pinching Shoyou’s cheeks. “That’s not what that means buddy, but don’t worry about it.” 

“We should go out to celebrate,” Atsumu said, clearly fascinated by the sight of Kiyoomi smiling and laughing. “What do you want to do Shoyou? It’s your reward!”

“Um! Um!” Shoyou was so excited he was now jumping up and down on the couch. Kiyoomi caught him slipping and put him down on the ground. “I want to go to the park and eat ice cream and play games and ---”

Kiyoomi put his hand to Shoyou’s mouth, already feeling exhausted. “You’re asking for too many things, pick one.”

“But I don’t want to pick just one!!” Shoyou shouted when Kiyoomi let go, pouting when met with a distant glare in response. 

Atsumu decided to step in. “How about we do one thing for now, and then tomorrow we can all go out for ice cream together when we go get your uniform, hm?” 

Shoyou stared at Kiyoomi, still, pouting, waiting for a response. It’s not like he was Kiyoomi’s real son, it’s not like he had known him for a long time or anything. But seeing Shoyou sad always affected Kiyoomi regardless of how strict and stern he thought himself to be. “Fine, we play a game right now and go out for ice cream tomorrow.”

“And then after we go to the park?” Shoyou slipped a little smile, knowing he was testing his luck with the stubborn Kiyoomi. 

“Well aren’t you getting good at negotiating mister,” Kiyoomi decided to grab the boy and start tickling him, hearing his laughter fill the room immediately. 

“So what game are we playing Shoyou?” Atsumu asked. “I think I’m getting good at Mario Kart.”

Kiyoomi scoffed. “Going from 12th place to 7th isn’t an improvement, it just means you’ve finally made it to the average AI level.” 

“No one asked you for your opinion, Omi!” He tossed a cushion at Kiyoomi’s head, who dodged it masterfully. 

Shoyou climbed back up onto the couch and made his declaration. “I want to play Smash!”

Kiyoomi liked video games, liked the methodological mechanics behind them, liked how you simply had to grind and then you too could become someone skilled at the game, just with practice and time. He was someone that was a natural with them and loved them for that reason. However, what’s far more entertaining was something he only realized after being in this family arrangement - playing with someone else was actually really fun, especially when they put up a good fight (but inevitably lose). 

“I swear you’re cheating Omi!!” Atsumu declared once again, smashing the buttons on the controller.

“You do this to yourself, you don’t have to choose Cloud just because he’s hot.”

Atsumu didn’t have the luxury to roll his eyes, he had to keep his eyes on the too fast Zero Suit Samus coming at him, curse her fucking tether grab. “Cloud is good!”

“He is, you just can’t play him,” Kiyoomi peeked at Shoyou who was playing Kirby with a concentrated expression, without realizing that they just made him an AI because his hands barely gripped the controller right. “Are you killing the enemy Ness over there Shoyou?” 

“I am papa!!”

“Good boy, remember, all Ness and Lucas players are the enemy.”

“You think you have the luxury to look away from me huh?” Atsumu unleashed the limit break, only for Kiyoomi to swiftly dodge it. 

Kiyoomi won every round, of course.

“This game is rigged, I don’t even think the fighting techniques of Ken and Ryuu are accurate.” Atsumu said with a pout. “I can fight better than them.”

“Show me dad!!” Shoyou said as he stood next to Atsumu, his little fists balled up. Atsumu changed his position to his fighting stance, moving Shoyou’s arms and legs to mimic him, and then he showed him how to pull his fist together and the motion to make a good, solid punch. 

Kiyoomi raised a brow, genuinely curious. “How did you take down the three people that tried to kidnap Shoyou?”

“Pressure points and using their own movements against them,” Atsumu said as he punched the air, Shoyou following suit. “Observing body language is my specialty, I can feint what I’m going to do to pull out the expected enemy move, and then go from there. Plus, I’m fast.”

“So if I were to come after you right now,” Kiyoomi said, putting himself into a fighting stance, fists raised. “You’d be able to read me?” 

He threw out a punch to Atsumu’s jaw, no hesitation, which Atsumu not only caught perfectly in the palm of his hand, but his leg had already geared up and kicked Kiyoomi down. With a simple twist, he was able to spin around to build momentum and punch Kiyoomi in the chest, but was blocked with Kiyoomi’s arm just in time. 

Shoyou stared in awe as the two got faster and faster, exchanging blows, blocking and parrying, putting in distance and then coming right back in for impact. Kiyoomi was having a harder time than Atsumu, that much was clear. Although he thought of himself as someone quite capable, there were just a lack of brawls which obviously deterred his close combat abilities. He was a range guy anyway by preference, always kept to the walls of the room, always sneaked around to where he needed to be. Atsumu on the other hand was the kind of opponent that wouldn’t take his eyes off of you - just when you think you can catch your breath, he’s there, his eyes wide in concentration, his body moving out of instinct and muscle memory, tearing you apart. 

Finally, breathless and on the floor, Kiyoomi decided to give in. “Your win, ugh.”

Atsumu grinned in response, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “You weren’t bad though Omi.”

Kiyoomi could only roll his eyes. How surprising and how vexing. Why is it that when this dumb blonde guy runs a hand through his sweaty hair and be all gross in his sweaty shirt, he’s still hot? Kiyoomi was already feeling all of himself burning from the exercise, but now he felt a heat shoot up through him that’s even worse, his chest giving him all the wrong kinds of feelings watching Atsumu grin and wipe the sweat from his neck. 

“Shoyou, I hope you learned something from that!” Atsumu still had the energy to chase after Shoyou, trying to grab a hold of him. “Dad was cooler just now, right?”

“Dad will be even cooler if he doesn’t make me take a bath!!” 

“Nice try munchkin, but not happening.”

Kiyoomi laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling. “Tsumu was definitely cooler just now, I agree.” 

  
  


_____________________

  
  
  


Did the universe decide to decrease Keiji’s luck stat to -10, or was it just him? A person that works nearby, a person that is friends with one of his own friends, a person who’s had more than one opportunity to meet again, always seems to be just out of reach. It’s like time only moved forward just to have Keiji left behind, looking for Bokuto Koutarou once again. 

This time, what Keiji planned was certainly not something he should be doing, by any means. And it was certainly not something he wanted to get Kiyoomi involved in either, but here they both were, geared up in all black, flashlights lit, agile on their feet. 

“This has got to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever asked for.” Kiyoomi whispered in sheer contempt, shining his light onto Bokuto’s desk as Keiji took out a hammer from his bag. “When you said we had to break in somewhere and destroy something, I genuinely thought it was for something important. Like a code that could activate robots to end humanity. Or a message that could break out war between the East and West.” 

“This  _ is _ important.” Keiji retorted, flipping open the laptop. “Your best friend needs to fall in love so that he doesn’t puke seeing you being all happy with your husband and child.” He straight up smashed the keyboard on Bokuto’s laptop with the hammer, three times, each one more aggressive than the last to make sure it’s broken. 

“They’re my  _ fake _ husband and  _ fake _ child and I never said I’m happy?” Kiyoomi replied, looking around to make sure no one was coming in after hearing literal sounds of destruction. 

Keiji rolled his eyes, “At this point you don’t need to say it, it’s written all over your face.”

“I’m a fucking spy,” Kiyoomi whispered angrily, “I don’t have those kinds of emotions or attachments. I need to keep  _ them _ happy and satisfied until my mission is done.”

“ _ Their _ happiness has become  _ your  _ happiness, idiot. That’s how it works.”

So that’s how it was. The aching feeling in his chest whenever he saw them smile and hug and be excited to see him come home, their laughter, their affection. It was piling up. This mission had gone on too long. 

Keiji peered up at the silent Kiyoomi, packing away his hammer. “Let me say this to you at least once, Atsumu is really good for you. I don’t think there has to be a distinction between whether it's a mission or not, because the truth simply is what it is meant to be.” 

  
  


_____________________

  
  


_ I’ll believe all the lies if they’re from your lips  
_ _ Keep lying to me, keep breaking your promises  
_ _ I’ll still fall for you, I’ll do it a hundred times _

  
  


If there was one thing that Sakusa Kiyoomi was an expert at, it was overthinking. In his line of work as a spy, overthinking was valued - it meant that you would not only notice each tiny detail, but you would analyze it, you would figure out all prospective scenarios that could occur as a result of that tiny detail, you could prepare for any situation at any given time. It was that meticulous side of him, the one that likes routines and methods and predictability. It made him feel at ease. 

But when this routine and predictability is interrupted, he gets right back to overthinking, right back to all the doubts that haunt the darkest corners of his mind. He hated to doubt, hated the nagging feeling of it, the incessant occurrence that would fade in and out of his head without his control. 

And the last person he wanted to doubt in this very moment was Atsumu. 

He said there were late shifts recently, some kind of big company negotiation happening and work had piled up to make sure they got everything right for this. Kiyoomi wants to believe it, wants to believe in every single word Atsumu says to him in his sultry voice with his pretty mouth, but the doubt that grows inside of him won’t let him go unscathed. For one, they weren’t  _ really _ husbands, they weren’t  _ actually _ in love, they were just playing their parts for their own personal benefits. Even if things were changing inside of Kiyoomi, even if it felt like there was something more that filled the gap between him and Atsumu, the pang of doubt clouded him and brought him down with all sorts of scenarios: what if Atsumu was tired of this and he didn’t want to be part of this family anymore, what if Atsumu was cheating on him for that reason, what if Atsumu was actually working for the enemy, what if Atsumu, what if Atsumu, what if Atsumu. 

Too many thoughts plagued Kiyoomi. Too much thinking about Atsumu. 

For the third night in a row, Atsumu came back home late, his tie stuffed into his blazer’s pocket that hung from his arm, the top two buttons of his collared shirt undone, sleeves rolled up. He looked exhausted each time he came, depressed even, sighing as he trudged into the house. Kiyoomi had gotten into the habit of waiting for Atsumu to come home so that they all had dinner together, but with his late night shifts it was long after Shoyou had gone to bed and dinner was cold that Atsumu would arrive in his sorry state. 

Yet he couldn’t help but wait for him anyway, seeing his face at least once more before they parted ways to go to bed. He always greeted Atsumu, always asked if he was alright, if he needed dinner or something. But Atsumu’s moods had become more and more down as the days went on. There were less sparks in his eyes, less smirking, less laughing, less senseless banter that would make Kiyoomi’s chest feel something funny. 

By the fourth morning, Kiyoomi had had enough. “Hey Tsumu, your collar is messed up, I’ll fix it.” 

Atsumu stood yawning, a coffee in hand as Kiyoomi pretended to fix his collar and stick a tiny listening device under the collar. The motion was so swift that Atsumu didn’t notice anything, didn’t even flinch, and continued on with his morning and out the door to the office.

Listening device aside, Kiyoomi felt the urge to tail him too. He hadn’t done this to Atsumu, ever, and even as he walked at a large distance from him, he felt a shiver down his spine. Usually, Atsumu was able to hide his presence from others, that much Kiyoomi had noticed. But did that mean he was good at noticing people following him? Kiyoomi didn’t intend to find out. He kept to the walls, kept the distance, the listening device working perfectly as Kiyoomi could hear every word uttered to and by Atsumu from the duplicate in his own ear. 

The entire day sounded normal - Atsumu and Bokuto were actually working, although both of them were quite chatty throughout. They had a heated discussion about which meat is best barbecued, for some reason, and then at some point Bokuto broke the printer, so it took them a long time to figure out how to fix it, which was essentially giving it a kick. Kiyoomi wanted to call them idiots, but he refrained. 

What was interesting was the fact that their work day ended at a usual time, unlike what Atsumu had been telling Kiyoomi this whole time. The caution bells were ringing in Kiyoomi’s head, his chest tight with a kind of hurt he could not even begin to decipher or express. He followed Atsumu at a distance, now even more so curious about where in the hell he was going. All the what if’s he had thought of, all the warnings he wondered about, they weighed on his shoulders as he followed. 

The first stop was the grocery store, to Kiyoomi’s surprise. He bought clearly way too much, but nothing he couldn’t handle carrying to wherever he was going to next. Atsumu walked quite a ways until he finally reached a house, a person Kiyoomi didn’t recognize welcomed him inside. 

“Will ya at least help me with the bags, Suna?!” Atsumu was shouting as the man who had opened the door walked away. 

Kiyoomi’s heart had sunk all the way to his stomach. Does this mean that Atsumu had found someone else to be with? Was he cheating on him after all? Who the fuck was this Suna guy, anyway?

Kiyoomi wanted to be sure, wanted to know exactly if Atsumu was cheating after all and for what kind of guy did he fall for that was better than Kiyoomi. He  _ had _ to know. He needed to know for his own sake. So that when the time came for this mission to end, it would be that much easier to leave, that much easier to push Atsumu away from his thoughts, away from his heart. 

He decided to go onto the property and peek through a window, his body half inside a bush in a very uncomfortable position, but he did not have the luxury to find a better place at this time. He watched Atsumu argue with the other man named Suna as he littered the kitchen with all the grocery he just bought, covering all their counters and pulling out pots and pans like it was his own house. 

“Look,  _ I’m _ the one that has to suffer with you being here,” Suna was saying. “You’re lucky you’re Samu’s brother, otherwise I would’ve kicked you out long ago.” 

_ What the hell is going on _ , is all Kiyoomi could think. 

“ _ You _ offered to taste check!” Atsumu shouted, as Osamu finally walked into the kitchen. 

“Yeah, thinking that if you’re Samu’s twin, you’d be making delicious food, if not at least edible. But you can’t do either.” 

“Calm down, I’ll check today Rintaro.” Osamu began to create space on the counters, putting away some of the groceries brought. “Did ya get everything on the list?”

Atsumu rolled his eyes, “Of course, but getting a restaurant’s worth of ingredients was hard for me to bring back by myself ya know?”

“What the hell else are those muscles for? Decoration?” Suna responded with a smirk. 

“If ya stand still and close your eyes, you’ll know exactly what they’re for Suna,” Atsumu retorted, showing a clamped fist as his arm geared up for a punch. This was not the time to think Atsumu’s arms were hot, Kiyoomi had to remind himself. 

“It’s only been three days now, but it looks like the umeboshi is coming out well I think,” Osamu held a clear plastic container up for Atsumu to look at. “But they won’t be done for another two weeks probably.”

“But will they taste good, that’s the real question.” Atsumu said, examining the pickled plums as if he had any idea what they were actually supposed to look like. “It’s not really the season for them yet so I’m nervous they might not turn out that well.”

Osamu nodded, “It’s a bit early, but I think you should be fine since we’re using small ones. I’ll do the drying and cleaning because it takes a lot of time, so I’ll call you when they’re ready to be picked up.” And then, after a pause, “I’ll be sure to put them in a nice jar too, so you can give him something that at least looks nice, even if it might taste bad.”

Atsumu blushed. “I’m asking for you to help me so that they  _ don’t _ end up tasting bad. Take this seriously, will ya?” 

And along with Atsumu, on the other side of a window and half in a bush, Kiyoomi also blushed, a hand to his burning cheeks. Umeboshi was  _ Kiyoomi’s _ favourite food. But he wasn’t that picky about it, he was completely fine with store-bought pickled plums, as long as they tasted fine. Atsumu didn’t need to do this. Rather, why was he doing this? 

“So I’m guessing you’re trying to make tamago kake gohan again?” Suna asked, already feeling sick as he peered at the many egg cartons that Atsumu brought along with him. 

“I already told you, it’s Shoyou’s favourite, that’s why I gotta learn.” Atsumu had taken off his blazer and stuffed his tie into the pocket, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

“It’s literally three ingredients, rice, raw egg, soy sauce. I don’t understand why you’re messing it up,” Suna commented.

Osamu sighed, “He doesn’t want to use the rice cooker, so the rice is the hardest part. Also, he cracks eggs like he’s trying to crack someone’s skull.”

“I’m doing my best here, okay?!” 

Kiyoomi had seen and heard enough. He let out a sigh of relief as he pulled the listening device out of his own ear and turned it off. When he walked back to their own house, he felt a spring in his step, a gentleness in his chest, and he couldn’t help but admire the clear night sky that stretched above his head. 

  
  


____________________

  
  
  


Kindergarten wasn’t nearly as hard as papa had made it out to be, at least to Shoyou. He thought he’d be forced to try to write his name or actually colour in between the lines, but everyone in his class held crayons in their tiny fists and didn’t care whether they were in the lines or not, so Shoyou decided he didn’t care either. 

He liked his teacher, Sugawara, and generally got along with the other kids in the class. They all played lots of games together, read picture books together, ate lunch together, and they even had nap time, which was harder for Shoyou to cope with given he was a ball of energy, but even if it took him a bit longer than the others, he always ended up napping and feeling refreshed afterwards. 

His first few days, Shoyou had premonitions of his overworking father sneaking into the school and tailing him, watching him from windows or with binoculars from the opposite building. He figured papa probably had to do it for the mission, so he didn’t make a fuss about it, even though he really  _ really _ wanted to show papa the cool art project he made during class with macaroni. Instead, he let himself be taken in by the school environment, enjoying going to class and learning and playing with other kids his age. 

However, despite his capabilities in making friends easily (he hung out with Kindaichi Yuutarou and Kunimi Akira rather often, though almost everyone in his class was his friend), there was one person in the class that Shoyou was having trouble even approaching. What made things difficult was the fact that it was clearly someone he  _ had _ to approach, for the sake of papa’s mission. What he didn’t realize was that he had to do it for the sake of himself, too. 

Because Shoyou’s memories of the institute where the experiments occurred were hazy, but what was much hazier was the escape - he recalls nothing of escaping the place, just that Tobio was there for a bit, and then suddenly he wasn’t. Shoyou had found himself in an alleyway alone, freezing, and teetered his way to the orphanage his visions had told him to go to, directions known to him by heart, even though he had no idea how or why. 

And so, for the sake of himself, he had to speak to Tobio. To conjure up his own memories somehow, through trial and error, through a kind of exposure to something from the past that might help piece together a part of the puzzle that was long gone, blocked out from his mind because he was so little, so afraid, and didn’t know what was worth remembering or not. 

Two weeks had passed since they had started school and Oikawa Tobio did not have many friends. He was a spacey boy, usually not quite paying attention to his surroundings, sometimes falling asleep during story time, yet energized for lunch and snack time. He didn’t say too much, but it was clear he wanted to. He wanted to communicate, play with the others just like every other child. Sugawara-sensei was good for that, he managed to have Tobio included and so interactions with him were not all unpleasant, sometimes even fun. But it was hard to tell what he was thinking, what exactly he wanted to do, and the glare he uses to stare someone down when wanting to play with them does not always go smoothly. 

“Hey, you’re always playing volleyball on your own. Do you want to play together?” Shoyou worked up the courage to ask, Kindaichi and Kunimi standing not too far behind him, unsure whether this group would be fun or not. It was to their surprise to see Tobio light up in excitement. 

They tossed the ball to and fro, running after it haphazardly, not having known any of the rules or how to even play. But Tobio was already skilled at working the ball, his fingertips setting the ball in a smooth motion (even if the direction of the ball rarely went where he had intended for it to go). They were taking turns catching and throwing, but Tobio was getting frustrated with their plays. He began to teach them how to spike it, based on what he had watched and learned himself, although he was not good at hitting the ball like he told them to do either. This went on and on, until the kids suddenly felt fed up. 

“Let’s just do it the way we were doing it before!” Kindaichi protested.

“No, if you’re not going to do it right then I don’t want to play.” Tobio gave a straight response, an expression of seriousness on his face.

“But even  _ you _ can’t do it right,” Shoyou retorted, snatching the ball from Tobio’s hand. “Don’t be a sour puss and just play.”

But Tobio snatched the ball back, feeling a heat rise through him. “I don’t want to play with kids who suck! Get lost if you’re not gonna do it right!” 

Shoyou wasn’t sure if it was because of the tone, the glare, or the volume of Tobio yelling, but he had this intense look in his eyes as he shot out his arm with a clenched fist, just like his dad had taught him, right into Tobio’s face. For a kindergartener, it wasn’t all that powerful, but it was surprisingly still the right way to punch, and it even drew blood from Tobio’s nose. 

  
  
  


___________________

  
  
  


Atsumu was the last to arrive on the scene, running at the sight of Shoyou’s orange head down the corridor. Shoyou was still crying through hiccups, one hand rubbing his left eye, the other clutching Kiyoomi’s pant leg. Atsumu skidded to a stop and crouched down in front of Shoyou, holding both his arms. “You got into a fight?! Well?? Did ya win? Tell me ya won, Shoyou.”

Kiyoomi smacked Atsumu on the head, shooting him a glare. “He punched another kid and gave him a nosebleed.” 

This time, Atsumu decided to whisper to Shoyou, “That means you won, and you used the technique I showed you, right?” Once again, Atsumu was smacked on the head and pulled by the arm to stand straight. He turned to see the other family that was called in, one father and his frowning child whose nose was stuffed with tissues. 

Kiyoomi bowed, his hand on Shoyou’s head to signal him to do the same, and Atsumu followed suit. “On behalf of our kid, we truly apologize for this.” 

The other man, Oikawa Hajime, simply laughed. “Oh it’s okay, you don’t have to be so formal. Kids play rough sometimes so it’s fine.” He looked down at Tobio and ruffled his hair. “Mine is not very good at communicating, so he gives off the wrong impression to others. I bet it was just as much his fault, so don’t worry.” 

“Ah, but still, I feel bad since he learned that from my husband…” Kiyoomi responded, stealing a glance at Atsumu. 

Atsumu suddenly felt embarrassed now. “Yeah sorry, I do martial arts training so he picked that up from watching me.”

“That’s impressive, both you and your husband seem to be very fit,” Hajime acknowledged, peering at the both of them. “I’m an athletic trainer, so I have an eye for those that look like they’re good candidates.” 

“Oh! How interesting, what do you do training for?” Atsumu asked. 

“Volleyball, my husband and I like to play.”

Kiyoomi perked up to the sudden bout of information. “I actually used to play as well, I was the ace spiker back in the day.” 

“I dabbled in it too for a while, played setter,” Atsumu commented, a bit excited knowing there was this side of Kiyoomi too. 

“Well what are the odds, I hope you’ll be interested in playing a match sometime with me and Tooru.” 

Kiyoomi didn’t even need to fake a smile. “Absolutely, please invite us anytime, that would be great.” 

  
  


__________________

  
  
  


“Sorry Akaashi, but it’s me again,” Atsumu said sheepishly, hiding behind what was Bokuto’s smashed laptop in front of his face as he walked into Akaashi’s office. “We have no idea what happened this time, but his laptop is totally busted. If you can salvage some files into this new one he got that would be great.” 

Keiji slumped onto the counter, unable to even face Atsumu anymore with a deep sigh. 

It stung, terribly, to know that perhaps it wasn’t the universe conniving against Keiji, but instead the person himself. He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to give it the light of day or the moon of night. It was a thought he buried deep inside his mind so that he could focus on being proactive, trying to pursue this man like everything that happened between them had meant something. Or maybe Keiji was the only one that felt a rift in the universe, a rift in his heart. Maybe he was the only one that caught his breath when he first laid eyes on Bokuto, felt his chest tighten, felt the air around them change like winter melting into spring. 

Perhaps this whole time Keiji was wholeheartedly pursuing someone that didn’t want to be pursued. That stung even more, a hurt that was starting to settle in his throat and the corners of his eyes. 

So he was rejected before he even got to confess. The universe was as mysterious as it was cruel, Keiji had come to realize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I think this was my fave one to write bc Atsumu cooking disasters!!!
> 
> To all the online Ness and Lucas players that spam PK Fire. Fuck you guys - from Sakusa Kiyoomi and Me
> 
> Final chapter will likely be released tomorrow! Thanks again for your comments and support, I really appreciate it!


	5. Justajoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter!! Just a note, there is some spicy content up ahead so be mindful (but it is not explicit, just implied). 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

**Justajoo (j-oo-s-tah-j-oo): longing, yearning, in pursuit for; referring to a desire that is not just a simple one, but one that has been left incomplete for so long that it has become strong in meaning**

  
  
  


_ I learned to write poetry from you  
_ _ Learned it when you looked at me  
_ _ When you touched me  
_ _ When you kissed me  
_ _ When you loved me _

_ And especially, when you hurt me _

  
  
  
  


This was certainly no vintage hotel, but it was high-class, with raised ceilings and freshly cleaned carpet on a hardwood floor. What was interesting about this place was the dim bar on the ground level, what with its darkened windows and moody music creating such an atmosphere that you couldn’t help but lose your sense of time the longer you stayed there sipping your drinks. It was a hopeless case for anyone that caved in and sat in one of the too comfy booths, feeling time and day slip away with each drink and each pleasant interaction with the bartenders and waiters. 

Atsumu and Bokuto sat side by side at the bar counter, each sipping on a drink in their hands, dressed in their usual all-black suit attire, customary for their side job. They fit right into the crowd that was beginning to shuffle in, the upper class business men and women that had just finished their work shifts and needed a beer before they did anything else for the rest of their evening. 

The other great thing about high-end hotels were the staff - in particular, how easy it was to pay them off, considering that these places always employed a ridiculous amount of people and still underpaid them. No one was loyal, especially after having to serve wealthy people every day. 

When the target shuffled into the bar, the bartender passed Atsumu’s credit card back to him in signal, closing their tab. They continued sipping their drinks, making small talk about their day jobs, until finally a waitress tapped Bokuto’s shoulder on her way back, a flirty smile on her lips. 

“Usually you have better reactions to that kind of attention,” Atsumu commented, finishing the rest of his drink in one last swig. 

“Ugh, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

They made their way over to the target sitting in a booth alone, their bodyguards standing just outside of it on either side. Bokuto made the move to sit next to the target, facing him to feign that all his attention was on him, his hand moving to grab the target’s knee underneath the table. 

“You called for two, right?” Bokuto whispered into the target’s ear, a man in his fifties with too much money to spend, clearly. The target glanced at Atsumu in confirmation, he gave his best practiced smirk in response.  _ This guy was too easy. _

They were escorted up through the elevator and into the room after just one drink, the target clearly becoming impatient. The amount of bodyguards had increased, however. While there were two main ones that escorted him into the bar, there were two more that waited in the lobby, and four that waited inside the room. The man had booked one that had a bedroom separate from the living space, where all of his guards besides the ones in the lobby shuffled inside. 

Atsumu and Bokuto were patted down before entering the bedroom, stripped of their blazers, emptied their pockets, even had to show them the inside of their shoes. The search would’ve been far more thorough and probably more beneficial if the target wasn’t getting so impatient with the precautions. Bokuto had infected him with his touch and closeness earlier, rendering him useless in common sense, just as Atsumu had guessed. 

Which led them to an easy kill behind the bedroom door, soundless, a pillow to the disgusting man’s face to cover the noise and a blade that was hidden between the sole of Atsumu’s shoe, sliding across the man’s neck in one swift motion. They didn’t even have to take off their clothes or pretend to go any further than they already had, the target turned out to be more careless than they thought.

Bokuto was able to survey the room fast enough to find a gun hidden in the closet, and another hidden inside the bathroom while Atsumu made sure the target was dead beyond saving. It would take another minute for the guards to realize that it was far too silent in the bedroom for anything to be happening. They needed a plan.

“Chief said we had to kill all of them, right?” Atsumu whispered as he loaded his gun. “What the fuck are we gonna do about the two in the lobby?” 

“Could wait around here until they show up?” Bokuto fished out the man’s phone from his clothes and took a picture of the dead man lying on the bed, slipping the phone into his own pocket.

“I don’t have that kind of time, it’s my turn to help Shoyou take his bath.” 

“Stop showing off how domestic you are now,  _ please. _ ” Bokuto walked up to the door and glanced at Atsumu, giving him a nod in signal. As Atsumu returned the nod, he kicked down the door suddenly, using this opportunity to shoot three bodyguards before they could even react. He hit no vitals for any of them except one and kicked up the door into the frame with his foot, using it as a shield for the next round of bullets shot by the bodyguards themselves. 

Bokuto moved out of the way to reload his own gun as Atsumu waited by the door, expecting one of the bodyguards to kick the door down to enter. As soon as the door was kicked in, Atsumu threw a pillow in the face of the charging man, shooting him precisely in the chest during his confusion. He ducked to allow Bokuto to shoot at the other remaining four that trampled inside the room, tripping or jumping over their dead friend’s body. He was able to shoot one more down. 

Since Atsumu was crouching on the floor, he was able to tangle his own arms into one of the guards’ legs to bring him down. He easily maneuvered from underneath to shoot one that tried to gun him, and then slit the throat of the one he had tripped in mere seconds. 

One last left, but he tried to escape. Emphasis on  _ tried. _ Atsumu swiftly threw his knife across and managed to slow him down with a stab to his calf. He tripped, still trying to reach for the door, but in seconds Bokuto had tackled him to the ground, punching him in the face as they hit the floor. 

Bokuto grabbed onto the man’s collar, “I know you have a way of getting the other two in the lobby to come here. Call them right now, and I spare your life.” 

Cowards were easy to manipulate like that, they did not understand the true risk of working in crime, what it meant to be loyal and have someone’s back. This man was no different, didn’t even hesitate as he pulled out his phone and called them asking for backup, fading in and out of consciousness as Bokuto held his gun to the man’s throat. 

It took five minutes, but the remaining two burst into the room with their guns out, scrambling to survey the scene and figure out what was going on. Bokuto and Atsumu had simply hung out by the door, waiting for it to be opened, waiting for their chance to attack, a smooth simple motion of stabbing someone in the chest from behind - no sound, no struggle. 

Atsumu dialled the Chief’s number from the hotel phone. “We’re done, got his pic and everything. And if you’re wondering, yes, he  _ was _ gross.” 

They waited a few minutes for a maid to come by and drop off their new suits, seeing as their own were bloody and tattered from all the mess. Atsumu had managed to wash all the blood off for the time being, but it always made him a bit jumpy wondering if he had any in his hair that he didn’t know, or if the smell lingered. He decided to spray himself with one of the colognes of the target to be sure. 

They both thought the job was done, the target and the guards eliminated as requested. But it was to both of their surprise - or perhaps, the consequences of their mistake - that the situation took a turn for the worse. 

One gun shot by the half conscious man they had forgotten, and Atsumu, falling down on his knees. 

  
  


___________________

  
  


Kiyoomi had put all doubtful thoughts away, distracting himself with all the logical reasons why Atsumu might be coming home late the last couple nights looking like he was completely miserable. Logical thoughts, he had to remind himself over and over, they had to be logical. What constitutes this “logic” was no thoughts of cheating or having an affair, he had debunked those theories the last time Atsumu came home late looking dejected because it turned out he was learning how to cook. Kiyoomi seriously cannot allow himself to doubt Atsumu again about that, not after how hard he worked to make the umeboshi that surprisingly turned out well (probably due to Osamu’s help) and how cute he looked giving them Kiyoomi. 

So no affairs, let’s go with that. But then, what could it be that was making Atsumu feel this miserable? Was he unhappy with the circumstances of the marriage after all? Was he having a hard time taking care of Shoyou? Was he struggling with balancing his work life along with having to clean their shared space? Was he feeling fed up with it all? 

The regular Atsumu would come home and greet them with a smile on his face, a lilt to his voice. He’d excitedly ask Kiyoomi what was for dinner and bother him endlessly to let him have a taste of what he was cooking, to which Kiyoomi couldn’t help but oblige every time, feeding him a spoonful and watching his eyes light up, his tongue lick his lips in satisfaction, a silly grin on his face just from tasting food. He’d talk endlessly about his day, about Shoyou’s day and Kiyoomi’s day and something he thought would be fun to do together when the weather was right or when he gets a day off. 

That Atsumu, at the very least,  _ looked _ happy. This one would resign to bed as soon as he got home, skipping dinner completely. He wouldn’t even sit down to eat breakfast in the mornings either, a toast in his mouth as he walked out the door in haste. He seemed to look a bit pale, but perhaps Kiyoomi was overthinking it again, like he usually does. But if Atsumu wasn’t feeling sick, then perhaps it was fatigue or stress. Too much work around the house, too much work at his actual job. Maybe he didn’t feel like putting up with all of it. Maybe he was unhappy about everything after all. 

But he wasn’t leaving, to Kiyoomi’s relief. Even if they have barely talked the last two days, he still greeted them when he came home, was polite and somewhat normal when asked a question, before running back into his room. He never hinted at leaving or doing something else, never mentioned any desire for more. 

Kiyoomi had analyzed and re-analyzed the situation enough times to come up with only one plan. He doesn’t know if it’ll work, he doesn’t even know if Atsumu will cooperate or even want this, if he’s honest, but if he doesn’t at least try this, then he would truly be at a loss. 

He works up the courage to knock on Atsumu’s door, who had arrived home in his sorry state just a few minutes ago and went straight into his room. “Do you have a minute, Atsumu?”

It took longer than Kiyoomi expected, but at last, Atsumu opened the door, his expression full of weariness. “What’s up Omi?”

“Um, if you’re free this evening, I was wondering if you’d like to go out?” Just saying it released butterflies in Kiyoomi’s stomach, anticipation taking over. 

“Go out? To where? Will we even have time, I don’t think I’ve given Shoyou his bath yet…”

“Ah no,” Kiyoomi cleared his throat. “It won’t be with Shoyou, just me.”

Atsumu blinked in surprise. “Just you?”

“A date. With me. Just me.” Kiyoomi held a hand to the back of his neck, hoping the embarrassment of saying it all didn’t show on his face.

“A date...with just you....” Atsumu looked at him a bit stunned, trying to process what he had just said. 

Kiyoomi was losing heart, suddenly feeling tense. Was this the wrong way to cheer someone up? Did he decipher how to go about this wrong? He thought that Atsumu might want to do something fun for a change to feel less stressed, but it should be without Shoyou in case he’s the cause of his stress, which left Kiyoomi by himself. And even if they were fake husbands, even if their marriage was temporary, they could pretend to go out on a date, right? It didn’t have to mean anything if Atsumu didn’t want it to, hell, Kiyoomi couldn’t handle it meaning something because he’s trying his best not to have hope for any of this. So it should be fine, right?

“If you don’t want to or are uncomfortable, you don’t have to force yourself,” Kiyoomi found himself saying, his anxiousness getting the best of him. 

But Atsumu shook his head, already looking much less miserable. “No no, I’m sorry, my hesitation is not because I’m uncomfortable or anything. Rather, I really want to go on, um, the date. With you.” He blushed, trying to cover it up with a hand to his cheeks. “I need to dress properly then, give me half an hour.”

Kiyoomi felt relief only for a moment, before anxiousness about the date now settled into his chest. He gave his best smile. “That should be enough time for Akaashi to get here to babysit.”

  
  


__________________

  
  


The date was a wonderful idea, in essence. However, the timing for it was inexplicably bad, not that Kiyoomi would ever know and could ever know. Atsumu let his heart make the decision of agreeing to this date, it was the tightness in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach and the great, great desire to be in a better mood because he has gone through enough suffering the past few days, given that he was  _ shot _ in the fucking  _ ass. _

Even though Chief Alisa and Bokuto managed to get him to an underground doctor that was able to fix him up, this shit hurt like hell. It’s not like Atsumu had never gotten shot before, quite the contrary, he’d been shot in the foot, his left thigh, the stomach, both arms, and the right shoulder before. All of it hurt, but all of it happened when he was still a teenager, when he was still trying to shoot guns and manage the recoil and didn’t think twice about what kind of danger he was flinging himself into. 

This time, being shot not only hurts considering it’s been so many years since he actually managed to get shot, but it’s also annoying as hell because really, who the fuck thought it was okay to shoot someone in the butt? Atsumu  _ cannot _ sit down, like, anywhere. The toilet included, but he has to suck it up and deal with the pain even for that. He’s managed to avoid sitting at the dinner table and for breakfast, been able to avoid having to do anything that requires sitting down or bending over in general. 

But this date. This date might just make his wound start bleeding again, though he made sure to wrap up his ass with extra bandages  _ just _ in case something like that were to happen, of course. Atsumu just didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Kiyoomi, not to mention make him suspicious of his recent behaviour. 

Plus, it’s a date. Just the two of them. Atsumu couldn’t believe it, but here they were. It might just be a fake date, considering they’re a fake couple and all, but it was still a date. It counted for something, it had meaning even if it wasn’t intended to have meaning. It was simply the act of going on this date that made Atsumu feel like he was beyond happy, could even forget the bullet wound on his butt.

“Are you sure you don’t want to uber?” Kiyoomi asked, perplexed why his idea to drive to the movies was rejected so fast by Atsumu. He already felt like his plan was falling apart, not so different from Operation Noor, so he was going with the flow again. 

“Honestly I think some walking would do us good!” Atsumu’s ass couldn’t bear to sit inside a car right now, let alone longer for a movie.

Kiyoomi haphazardly looked for his backup date ideas on his phone as they walked, “Then, how about we go to the festival happening not far from here? I was saving that for Shoyou, but I wouldn’t mind coming back later to eat the street foods, since I have a reservation for us for dinner.”

The festival was in full swing when they arrived, filled to the brim with people. Kiyoomi personally hated crowds and would normally never go anywhere this packed, but he felt himself settle down after seeing Atsumu’s face light up at the sight of booths and lanterns and live music. The energy of a festival was always alluring, a space where time passes far too quickly as you run from one booth to another, curious to play the games and buy random things. 

What was silly was how one game of shooting for prizes became Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s competition throughout their time at the festival. Every booth that required them to shoot something down or throw something, they were side by side, competing with all their strength. To both their surprise, both of them were a great shot. While they were equally good in tests of strength and speed, Atsumu continued to win in stamina, to Kiyoomi’s dismay. 

They gave up most of their prizes to kids that had shuffled around them, impressed and awed by their skills. But they kept a giant stuffed bird with orange hair, solely because it reminded them of a certain someone. 

And now came the dinner, the one situation that will absolutely test the tolerance of Atsumu. Even as they walked over to the restaurant, he dreaded every moment he would have to plant his ass down on a chair and how fucking painful it was going to be. But he was willing to do it. Willing to do it for the sake of this date not ending halfway like this, for the sake of making progress in a relationship whose fate is still up in the air, for the sake of holding this hand a bit longer. 

Atsumu didn’t want anything ruining this date, not his bullet wound, not the weather, and certainly not the man that was definitely following them since they left the festival. 

“Are you okay, Tsumu? I feel like you’re...shaking a bit?” Kiyoomi asked in confusion, looking up at Atsumu across the table who was outright glaring at the menu at this point. 

“Ah, sorry sorry, but I skimped out on my strength training lately and feel guilty eating out on top of that, so I thought I’d try to do it now,” Atsumu explained, straining to hover over the chair in a sitting position, just low enough that his butt doesn’t touch the seat and still look like he’s more or less sitting. Well, he at least knows his glutes and his thighs will be impeccable after this. 

The man that was following them had come to the restaurant, that much Atsumu could tell. He could feel the presence of someone watching them and felt a shadow lurk around the edges of the room, likely trying to get a better view of them since they had a table in the middle of the restaurant. Maybe this wasn’t quite the place to deal with this, but Atsumu knew he had to deal with it here, otherwise whoever this was would end up following them back to their house, and he couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t ever allow this part of his world to come into contact with Kiyoomi or Shoyou. He had to protect them at least this much. 

Atsumu excused himself for the restroom while they waited for their food. He had a hunch that the man who shot him recently probably contacted someone before they managed to kill him, meaning this was likely an act of revenge for that guard’s sake. In that case, Kiyoomi had nothing to do with this, so it would make the most sense for Atsumu to leave the table and go to the restroom alone, where he would be most vulnerable, and then be attacked. 

So why was it that he lost sight of the man by the time he had gotten to the restroom, and no one attacked him at all?

  
  


_____________________

  
  
  


Agent Jackal was a wanted man. Not many people knew his face, let alone his true identity. He opted to use his real name for Operation Noor on a whim, but it worked out because he needed to have a history and background suitable for a parent that was enrolling their child in Karasuno Academy. His feats as a spy, however, have made him a target for different kinds of people, for different kinds of purposes. From those who want to avenge the people he’s killed to those that want him to stop interfering with their plans, the list could go on, the enemies abundant, the bounty on his head only getting higher and higher. 

So it’s to no real surprise when he realizes that he’s being followed. Kiyoomi realized it about halfway to the restaurant, a man lurking in the shadows at a not-far-enough distance, even coming as far as into the restaurant, constantly switching places to get a better view of them. 

Kiyoomi was grateful for the coincidence that Atsumu had to go to the restroom. This gave Agent Jackal some time to deal with a nuisance. He couldn’t let his cover be blown now, and he certainly won’t allow it to happen, ever. 

Perhaps it was the boldness of having asked Atsumu out on a date, or the competitive side of him brought out in all those festival games, but Kiyoomi was feeling fearless, confident, like he didn’t need to think of a meticulous plan to deal with something like this. He simply had to act, to protect, nothing more. The shadowed man was stunned that Kiyoomi came up to him all by himself, sneaking up on him from behind and pulling him through the backdoor of the coat check closet. Good, they were alone. 

“I’ll fucking kill you,” was all the man could say before he was punched straight in the face. He swayed backward but pulled himself together at the last moment, throwing out a haphazard punch of his own that was blocked by Kiyoomi with ease. 

That was just a ruse, though. His other hand came flying at Kiyoomi with a blade, stopping just before it touched Kiyoomi’s throat as he attempted to grab the man’s wrist in a struggle. He managed to kick the man in the stomach at last and twisted the arm holding the blade around, pushing him against the wall, face smashed into it, hard. 

“I’ve since long stopped asking people why they’re after me,” Kiyoomi growled into his ear. “But this time, you’re endangering the person with me, and  _ that _ I cannot allow.” 

Kiyoomi had to end this quickly, but leaving a body in the coat check of a seemingly high-end restaurant was not the most ideal place. He had to knock him out and get an AWA agent to respond fast, otherwise this one would get away, but it was all too sudden. What if he gains consciousness before an AWA agent is able to take care of it? What if he tries to attack Atsumu, now that he knows that he’s someone precious to Agent Jackal? 

The man hadn’t faded out just yet, he knocked his head into Kiyoomi’s chin, pushing him back so he could get out of the hold. The blade he was holding was already confiscated by Kiyoomi when he pushed him against the wall, so he had no weapons to use besides his very own fists. 

Kiyoomi dodged the first punch thrown at him and caught the next in the palm of his hand, undeterred. This guy was fighting frantically, never once considering what would happen if he didn’t have the upperhand of a weapon. Kiyoomi was able to knock him backward with another punch to the jaw and pulled him by the collar so that he wouldn’t sway too far back to take another hit he was gearing up for, but was shocked to hear the backdoor of the coat check suddenly open. 

“Omi?” Just as Atsumu spoke his name, the man that Kiyoomi had by the collar punched him right on the mouth, his lip splitting open on impact, drawing blood.

It took Atsumu only two seconds to realize it was the same man that was following them, the same man that he was trying to lure out and take care of so that  _ this _ kind of situation didn’t fucking happen. 

It was the first time Kiyoomi ever saw rage in Atsumu’s eyes, an unhinged version of his usual playful self, completely overtaken by a blind temper. Even the stranger was stunned, watching a perfectly handsome face wear such a distorted expression of anger and seriousness. Atsumu reacted fast, pulling the man by the collar towards him and then lifting him in the air for momentum and knocking him down into the ground. He kicked his teeth in and then began to beat his face in with fists.  _ How dare he touch Kiyoomi? How dare he beat Kiyoomi? How dare he even come near Kiyoomi? _

Kiyoomi was crouching above the man’s head, catching Atsumu’s fists in his palms before they defiled the man’s face any further, trying to meet his gaze. “Tsumu, breathe, I’m fine.” 

Atsumu let out a sigh, standing up and pulling Kiyoomi up with him. “You got hurt because of me.”

“What? No, you got involved because of me. I noticed him following us from the festival and didn’t want him following us home, so I thought to. Uh. Take care of things.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Atsumu held up his hands. “I also noticed him since the festival and didn’t want him following us home. I went to the bathroom thinking he’d likely follow me so I could. Um. Also. Take care of things, I guess.”

They both stared at each other in silence, a bit awestruck, but mostly feeling stupid. 

When Atsumu laughed, Kiyoomi did too. 

“What the hell are we Omi? Normal people call the police.” 

“I mean, we knew you weren’t normal to begin with, but I guess I’m not so normal either.”

“You say it like I infected you.”

“It’s called the Tsumu-disorder. Makes me think like you.”

Atsumu tilted his head with a grin. “In the next phase, you won’t be able to stop thinking  _ about _ me.” 

“Ah, I can already feel it. It’s called a headache.”

“Wow…”

  
  


__________________

  
  


_ Loneliness is the worst kind of sickness  
_ _ It manifests in your mind, spreads to your skin  
_ _ Your hand won’t stop reaching out to be held  
_ _ Your eyes can’t stop looking, can’t stop searching  
_ _ Each breath is a sigh, each heartbeat is anxious _

_ You did this to me, all the times you went away  
_ _ All the times you didn't come close  
_ _ All the times you hesitated _

  
  


Kiyoomi sat in the chair frozen, barely allowing himself to even breathe. Atsumu stood leaning down to his face, concentrating on cleaning Kiyoomi’s lip that had split open and bloody, a trail of red going down the side of his chin. The cotton swab stung him where the wound was, but Atsumu did his best to touch it gently, tilting Kiyoomi’s chin up with his free hand. He was so close that Kiyoomi could feel the light exhale of his breath on his skin, feel the heat of him just inches away. 

It was dangerous territory. 

Kiyoomi could feel a twitch in his hand wanting to pull Atsumu into his lap or wrap his arms around his waist. But there was also his heart - pounding in his chest so rampantly that he was afraid Atsumu could hear it if he came any closer, would make it worse if he did come closer. 

They were holed up in the restaurant staff room, a first aid kit provided to them by the staff as they hauled away the man that attacked them (they ended up getting the restaurant to report the man, trying to act at least a little like normal people). The sound of live music faded in here, the staff evacuated for maximum privacy. Kiyoomi wanted to say he appreciates it, but leaving him alone with Atsumu suddenly felt like it was too much after all. Especially considering how nice their entire date has been up until now, how his chest is giving him all the kinds of signals he needs to ignore. 

He closed his eyes, thinking that if he stared at Atsumu’s handsome face less it might be easier, if he stopped gazing into his eyes he’d stop looking, hoping, for a little something more, something that’s always been there but he can’t put into words or actualize. But it only enhanced sensations everywhere else, like Atsumu’s knee leaning into the side of his own thigh, his hand tilting Kiyoomi’s chin up, the soft hum of Atsumu’s voice as he concentrated. 

And then Kiyoomi was feeling soft lips pressing into the corner of his mouth where his wound had been, so brief he barely felt the touch, eyes opening in surprise. 

“Ready to go home?” Atsumu grinned. 

  
  


___________________

  
  
  


“Sakusa! Thanks for coming.” Oikawa Hajime called out as Kiyoomi walked into the gym. 

“Thanks for having me...sorry Atsumu couldn’t come today, he got swamped with work.”

Kiyoomi couldn’t help but be fascinated by his surroundings, did this medium sized and privately owned gymnasium always exist? Maybe because it was considered private property he hadn’t heard of it at all, but to think that it was connected to an Eastern style house with Western style furniture inside was a surprise, to say the least. Whoever Kodzuken was, they had very interesting tastes in, well, just about everything, from being a famous gaming streamer to liking volleyball enough to have a small tourney in his private gym was truly something. 

He had been allowed through the gates under the invitation of Oikawa Hajime, who called Kiyoomi a week ago asking for him to fill in as a spiker on their team, as their usual was injured. Of course, Atsumu was also invited to participate, but he really did have work this weekend and couldn’t make it, so Kiyoomi was left to go on without him.

Which was fine, Kiyoomi had every intention of making this interaction with the Oikawa's worthwhile, especially considering that there was a high chance Oikawa Tooru would be a part of this tournament. This could permit huge progress to Operation Noor, may even end the whole mission in one go depending on how it all goes down. 

A part of Kiyoomi feared the ending of this mission, and thereby ending the temporary family he has, but a part of him also felt relieved, knowing that he would no longer be taking advantage of Shoyou or Atsumu for the sake of the mission anymore. It was bittersweet, it was lonely, but when had the universe’s mysteries been anything but cruel? This kind of reality was always there, Kiyoomi knows better than to have hope. 

“So a quick introduction for you,” Hajime stated as he brought Kiyoomi to meet the rest of the team doing stretches. “Guys, this is Sakusa Kiyoomi who’s filling in today. From the left we’ve got Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Watari, and the perpetual pain in my ass husband, Tooru.”

Oikawa Tooru gave Kiyoomi a bright smile. “I hear you’re an ace spiker. Looking forward to seeing what you got.”

“Likewise.”

The games were proper, someone watching the sidelines and the net, a referee and everything. And the tournament was certainly small as described, with only 4 teams competing against each other in total. Most of the team members were casual players, but they had been with these teams for years and had competed against these same people for years, so there was a sense of both camaraderie and competition between the players. It was as strange as it was interesting. 

When it came down to Oikawa Tooru and his setting, Kiyoomi felt a little moved. He was a bit rough getting into the game again, being that he hadn’t played in a couple years so his body didn’t quite remember how to move until the second match began. But with every set, Oikawa got smoother, barely affected by Kiyoomi’s slow-to-start performance. By the time they played their third set, Kiyoomi felt like he was back in high school again, hitting the perfect kind of sets that took nearly 3 years for him and his setter to get the hang of. Oikawa was a monster player, that’s the conclusion Kiyoomi came to.

He hit powerful serves too, not to mention how he loved flashy, cocky plays that riled the other players up. He had no qualms about mocking them or trying to tear down their mental resolve because he was hungry to win, would devour each and every one of them on the court to do so. And his most riskiest plays were always reserved for his husband to make, like they communicate an entire game plan with one glance all the way across the court, and suddenly both of them know what to do and how to do it and they pull it off, each and every time. 

They won the tourney, of course. Only one team gave them a run for their money, but they had dominated over the rest like it was their rightful place to do so. And with the addition of Kiyoomi, they were crazy strong, his hits something the other teams could not understand properly enough to be able to counterattack appropriately. His wrists were always far too flexible, he was glad that somehow his wrists came in handy during a mission, for once. 

“Ah I remember who you are now,” Oikawa Tooru said as he caught Kiyoomi in the hallway outside the party room after their games were over. “You’re that Shoyou’s father, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes, sorry again about my son punching yours.”

He grinned. “You know, Tobio’s told me about Shoyou before. Orange haired kid, big eyes. Sees things like he does.”

“...What do you mean?” 

“Well I can’t say I’m sure whether they both see things or not, but I do know of their existence.” Oikawa continued, “Come by the house tomorrow evening. We can discuss in better detail about your circumstances.” 

“My circumstances?”

“Your temporary family, of course.” Oikawa smiled, “I have the power to look into you just as much as you look into me, Agent.”

  
  


____________________

  
  


There was no way that Oikawa Tooru knew his agent name, that much Kiyoomi was sure about. This was all classified information, they’d have a bigger problem of a mole within the AWA if any of his personal information leaked, but somehow, Kiyoomi doubted that was the case. Not because he trusts each and every person at AWA, but because it could’ve been far worse - if his identity had been leaked and linked to his codename, Jackal, then Oikawa Tooru would be the least of his worries. He’d be abducted, tortured, and likely killed for all the havoc he’s caused during his espionage tenure. And not just by one person seeking vengeance, but likely hundreds of them. 

However, it was clear that Oikawa was aware of the existence of AWA and the role it plays within the East and West society. And somehow, Kiyoomi was not too surprised. There was an edge to Oikawa that he couldn’t quite place, a smile that had more than one meaning, a glare that held more than one signal. He was adept at understanding his teammates' needs through observation and estimation, which made Kiyoomi believe that he was someone sharp with a lot of means of making things happen. They said Oikawa Tooru had a play in the East and West cold war occuring right now, and Kiyoomi had begun to think it was true. 

But at this point, Kiyoomi couldn’t back out. Even though his gut instincts told him that Oikawa was bad news, even if he felt an anxiousness in the back of his mind entering the Oikawa home and sitting across Oikawa himself in his office, he felt a moral obligation and a genuine curiosity to find out more about him. 

“Let’s clear some things up, Agent.” Oikawa said at last, adding three heaping sugars into his tea like the maniac Kiyoomi had begun to think he was. “I’m aware of the anti-war agency and its existence, have known for many years. But I’ve never communicated with them nor they with me, and I prefer to keep it that way.” 

He slid the sugar towards Kiyoomi across the table, who put in a measly half a teaspoon out of obligation. Oikawa continued, “I have no plans on outing them either, didn’t have them before and certainly don’t care to do it now, you’ll just have to take my word for it.” He took a sip of his tea for a pause, watching Kiyoomi intently, waiting for him to follow suit. When Kiyoomi simply stirred his tea, he resigned and put his own cup down. 

“You know, the human experimentation ring your people took down last year was something I had been chasing myself,” He said as he folded his hands on the table. “Except I’ve been chasing it for years, from the time my nephew was abducted. I’ve never been able to find my nephew, regardless of my connections.”

“To the East and West faction people?” Kiyoomi asked, intrigued with the new information.

Oikawa nodded. “What you’ll believe is for you to decide, but I was never the bad guy.”

“Though you’re not a good guy either, right?” Kiyoomi commented almost immediately. 

“Never said I was that either,” Oikawa replied with a grin. “But you’re not one to talk.”

Kiyoomi simply shrugged, giving up on stirring the tea he would not drink. “How do you know about Shoyou?”

“The same way you knew about Tobio. They know each other, even if their memories of their time at that place are distorted. As I mentioned before, I have been chasing and tipping the right people to take down human experimentation rings for a while. Your tip for its location was likely from my people, and I had the intel that your people would be raiding it that day.” He looked down at his cup with disdain in his eyes. “But I knew better that the children inside were not going to survive, my nephew didn’t, after all. My intention was to save them, if not all, at least some. Not a lot of people willing to raid places like that though, I only managed to gather a couple guards to pick up any children that managed to escape.”

Kiyoomi gave some thought. “The only two that escaped were Shoyou and Tobio. So you got into contact with Tobio this way, but what about Shoyou?” 

“That’s the mystery of it all, isn’t it?” Oikawa said, his eyes indicated that even he was perplexed. “One guard said he escaped while they were parked for gas. The other said they only caught one to begin with. Tobio doesn’t remember a thing.”

“And your intuition?” Kiyoomi had a guess too, but he was more interested in Oikawa’s thoughts.

He leaned back in his chair. “The universe will do as she pleases, whether it makes sense to those within it or not. We can’t question it, we simply flow through time and space just like she wants us too.” 

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, “I see why your husband called you a perpetual pain in the ass.” 

“I take that as a compliment,” He sipped his tea again. “Now to the business proposition.”

“Oh? Was that something on the table?”

“I said before we would discuss your circumstances, Agent. This is the time to do so.” 

He pulled out of his desk drawer a file, opening it up to two main documents: a contract, and adoption papers. 

“What is this?” Kiyoomi’s eyes had gone straight to the adoption papers, his heart beginning to clamour in his chest. 

“Given my  _ good _ intentions and the fact that I’m not mistreating Tobio, I’m offering you a way out of your current situation. I assume it was your mission to take care of the child and find Tobio, only to find out Tobio was already in good hands.” He looked up from the papers to glance at Kiyoomi. “Look, despite the fact that I have connections on both sides, what I’m doing isn’t considered a war crime or anything. Rather, I’m attempting to keep peace between both sides so that a war doesn’t occur again. I know that’s the underlying philosophy of AWA and I know it’s hard to simply take my word for it, but it’s the truth. I’m heavily guarded for that reason, I’ve heavily guarded  _ Tobio _ for that reason. The last thing I would ever want is someone stealing Tobio because of the experiments and try to weaponize him. I’m protecting him from that kind of life not just by physically having him guarded, but through my connections. East and West know better than to touch an Oikawa ever again.” 

He paused for a moment, waiting for Kiyoomi to meet his eyes, have a reaction other than a blank stare at the documents in front of him. 

“So you’re saying...you want to adopt Shoyou into your family? To protect him and Tobio from becoming weaponized?” 

“Yes, I think it would benefit you as well, considering that you likely adopted him for the sake of the mission assigned to you, right? While I’m sure AWA agents are skilled in protection, I think my resources are just better. My name alone scares people, not to mention the guards that are always watching.” 

“And how do I know you’re not going to just sell both of them later on?” Kiyoomi could feel his mind making excuses, following the panic in his heart. 

“I have no way to prove it without saying it’s a promise. I’m sure we can set up meetings or check-ins or something if you want to be sure?” Oikawa replied, his finger tapping the surface of the desk. He was leaning into the palm of his head, looking half in thought. 

Kiyoomi sat in silence for a little while, still unable to meet Oikawa’s eyes properly, still unable to move from his place. The reality was sinking in - this would be the best case scenario for Shoyou, he would have a family that could protect him fully, not the haphazard way Kiyoomi had done up until now. He would have real fathers that would love him and support him and had the means of giving him the entire universe if he wanted in the palm of his hands. It made sense. It was logical. 

But it was painful, knowing that Kiyoomi wouldn’t be able to hear Shoyou’s voice booming around the house, the pitter-patter of his little feet running from room to room, the bright smile on his face, the awe in his eyes, the tiny hands that would clutch Kiyoomi with all his small strength when he was scared. 

And Atsumu. God, he didn’t even want to think about Atsumu. Didn’t even want to think about how he smiles and laughs and talks and pouts. How his presence made Kiyoomi feel at ease, how he felt a happiness that radiated in his chest when he looked at him. 

Reality was always harsh when you grew attached, when you let the emotions overflow inside of you. Kiyoomi had given into the feelings he had thought he lost long ago beneath the rubble and ash of war, among the many people he killed, the bombs he defused, the dangerous jobs he undertook without a care in a world about himself or his life. He didn’t know the warmth of a family, the love that fills the gaps in his heart, the relief it pours all over him. 

“Why don’t you think it over for a bit?” Oikawa said, a surprisingly empathetic look on his face as he broke the silence. “You can decide if you want to continue the life you have with Shoyou and your current husband or give it up. It’s your call. I won’t hold you to it or anything. Just let me know by tomorrow, mkay?”

  
  


_____________________

  
  
  


Kiyoomi was used to hiding his emotions, wearing a mask that best suited the situation. But even as he arrived home late, just when he saw Atsumu close Shoyou’s bedroom door for the night, he felt his feelings would burst out any second. 

Overwhelmed. That’s how he felt most of all. Did he deserve any of this after what he’s done? Would they want to continue this after having learned the truth, and that’s  _ if _ Kiyoomi can even manage to tell them the truth at all. So many what if’s hung on his lips, so many memories circling his mind. 

“Hey, Kiyoomi, are you okay?” Atsumu walked right up to him, trying so hard to read his face, read the fear and disappointment in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. 

Kiyoomi could only stare back, trying his best to keep his poker face on because breaking now wouldn’t do anyone good, not him, not the mission, not for Atsumu or Shoyou. They all knew it was a temporary placement - it was all a temporary marriage, temporary family. They had given up a part of their lives for the cause of some world peace, but now, it feels as if world peace comes at the expense of their happiness. Or at least, Kiyoomi’s happiness. 

That’s how he had begun to feel about this arrangement. Happy. Satisfied. Attached. All the emotions he wasn’t supposed to feel, all the things he had to avoid at all costs. Each day, each smile from Atsumu and Shoyou broke him down. All the senseless banter, the cute flirting, the chaos and the pride that comes with raising a child - all of it became a part of Kiyoomi before he had even realized he had let it reside in his heart. And now it had become a comfortable home, a reason to work hard, a reason to stay alive. 

His chest hurt, and he felt his composure slipping, the sadness seeping deep into his bones. Kiyoomi stepped forward, his forehead touching Atsumu’s, and held one of Atsumu’s hands, feeling him tense up at the sudden touch. 

“What if I said I’m giving you an out?” Kiyoomi was looking down at the space between them, so small and yet so far apart. 

Atsumu answered a few seconds later, trying to process. “What do you mean by an out?” 

“You can walk out of this temporary marriage and family...go back to your old life,” Kiyoomi was talking slow, like each and every moment, here and now, needed to be dragged out. Make it last longer, make it last forever. 

“What? Why?” And, after a slight pause, he asked, “Is it me?”

“No, of course not. It’s not you,” Kiyoomi shook his head slightly, gripping his hand tighter. “Tsumu, I’m saying that you wouldn’t have to do all the cleaning or learn to raise a child or learn to cook. You wouldn’t have to babysit this kid or go to all his events at school. You wouldn’t have to…” He sighed, trailing off for a moment and then continuing, “you wouldn’t have to put up with me, either. You wouldn’t have to lie about us anymore.” 

“Who said any of that was a bother to me?” Atsumu replied, his voice getting a little louder. “I do that because I want to.”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t have to.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Tsumu...try to understand what I’m saying--” 

But he was cut off. Atsumu moved his head and took his hand back, now cupping Kiyoomi’s face in both hands. “Kiyoomi, your eyes look so sad right now saying all of this. I don’t even think you mean it.”

It felt like something broke inside him. “I’m not supposed to feel sad.”

Atsumu looked confused for a second, searching his face for answers. “You  _ are _ allowed to feel sad. You’re human, you can have emotions and you can express them, Kiyoomi. What are you holding back?” When he had no response, Atsumu continued. “How can you even ask me to go? How can you think I’m not happy?”

“No, it’s just. Tsumu, it’s a risk being with me. There’s things you don’t know about me.”

“So what? I could say the same, it’s a risk being with me and you don’t know everything about me either. But that’s part of it, isn’t it?”

Another blank stare. Atsumu was getting tired of it. “Do you know the kind of joy I feel having Shoyou call me dad? Do you know how happy it makes me knowing you’re here and I get to see you everyday? Or are you saying all this because  _ you’re _ not happy? Is that it?”

Kiyoomi stared in silence for a moment. He wondered what was the point of keeping it all together now, when he’s already been found out. “...I’m happy. I’m happy that you learned how to cook for me.”

“Well I’m happy you stay up late to see me every day, even when I come home late.”

“I’m happy that you try so hard to learn how to raise Shoyou with me.”

“I’m happy that you talk to me when I feel restless.”

“I’m happy you went out on a date with me.”

“I’m happy you kissed me.”

“I’m happy you kissed me back.”

The words hung in the air, frozen between their gaze. What does it mean? The question Atsumu had been trying to figure out since they first kissed. Did it mean anything at all? 

Atsumu grabbed Kiyoomi’s collar and pulled him into a kiss. Despite the strong pull, he kissed him lightly, their lips just grazing each other, slowly. Kiyoomi pulled himself apart for a second, looked at Atsumu, and came back for more. This kiss was deeper, urgent, forcing Atsumu to let himself be pulled closer by the waist, Kiyoomi’s arm encircling him. This time, Kiyoomi wanted a taste of Atsumu, rolling his tongue across his lip and sucking on it, for good measure. Their tongues finally wound together, breath hot, both of them trying to get closer to one another, trying to get a better angle, trying to feel each heartbeat, each exhale, each throaty sound. For all the times they didn’t kiss when they should’ve, for all the times they didn’t touch when they should’ve, for all the times they could’ve been closer, all the times they lingered without going further. 

They stopped to breathe, for a quick moment, eyes fixated on each other’s lips. As Kiyoomi leaned in to kiss him again, Atsumu grabbed his hand and turned around, motioning with his finger to his lips to be quiet. Atsumu led them into the hallway leading to Kiyoomi’s room and finally turned around when he got to the door, stealing one last glance at Kiyoomi behind him, signalling with his eyes the loaded question: are we really doing this?

Kiyoomi had stopped thinking, stopped worrying and obsessing over his stupid mission and world peace. This Atsumu that stood before him, collarbones exposed from his loose sweater, lips swelled from him sucking on them, staring at him with so much lust in his eyes that it was spilling over to Kiyoomi - if this was the last time Kiyoomi ever sees him, then might as well have this as a memory. 

He pushed Atsumu against the door and kissed him again, longingly, satisfied with Atsumu kissing back just the same. Kiyoomi led them inside just like that, lips unwilling to part with Atsumu’s, door closing behind them immediately. When they stopped again to breathe, Kiyoomi attempted to lock the door behind his back, while Atsumu trailed kisses down his neck. He was fumbling in the dark with Kiyoomi’s shirt buttons, trying to pull them all open so he could continue kissing - down his neck, his collarbones, his chest. Before he could go down any further, Kiyoomi pulled him back to his lips, kissing him once more, the slow, languid kind, where he takes his time searching for Atsumu’s tongue. His hands were already touching skin under Atsumu’s sweater, fingertips pressed against his stomach. They stepped back for a second, for Kiyoomi to take Atumu’s sweater off and throw it on the ground, stripping his own shirt too. 

Kiyoomi caught Atsumu staring at him, licking his lips, and when he realized he was caught, he only grinned. He pulled Kiyoomi to him by his belt buckle, hands already working to undo it, mouth kissing Kiyoomi again. Kiyoomi’s hands had begun to wander too, exhilarated by the feeling of Atsumu’s bare skin. His one hand trailed Atsumu’s neck, the other finding its way down his back. Kiyoomi hesitated at first, but as Atsumu’s hands pulled the belt off and unzipped his pants, he deepened their kiss and grabbed Atsumu’s ass.  _ Yep, he has a great ass _ . 

Atsumu let out a small moan and pulled himself out of Kiyoomi’s arms suddenly, a deep blush on his cheeks, more so shocked at himself than anything else. 

Kiyoomi smirked, trying to lead him towards the bed now. “By the way, I’m doing you tonight.”

“What?!” Atsumu almost shouted, already embarrassed out of his mind. “Ugh, fine, but next time  _ I’m  _ doing you, got it?”

“Fine, whatever, just come here already.” 

Kiyoomi had turned off his brain, couldn’t even bother to think and overthink and mull over the words “next time”, even though a part of him knew that there was probably not a next time. They wouldn’t be doing this again, they wouldn’t even be meeting like this again. Kiyoomi was probably going to be shipped off somewhere else, for his next mission, for world peace and all that. 

So he didn’t think about it. 

Instead, he thought about how cute Atsumu was when he would call out “Omi'' in a small voice, whenever Kiyoomi trailed kisses too far away from his mouth and he wanted to be kissed on the lips again. How he liked to be bitten on the inside of his thighs that were as firm and muscular and hot as Kiyoomi had imagined them to be. How he loved to feel up Kiyoomi’s chest and his abs and bite his collarbones. How he ran his fingers through Kiyoomi’s hair in deep satisfaction as Kiyoomi’s tongue lingered and licked all over the now-discovered piercing on his nipple. How Kiyoomi could practically feel the moans in his throat when he was kissing him. 

And when they finally slowed down, breathless, finished, they lay side by side, in their small little world, filled with doubts and hopes all at once, questions that hung in the air, answers longing to fill the gaps. 

“I’m in love with you, Kiyoomi.” Atsumu said at last, staring at the ceiling. “Even if this is just one part of you, even if I don’t know everything about you, I know I love you. That’s why it hurts when you say I should leave....I don’t want to leave, I want to stay with you no matter what.” 

Kiyoomi could see the hurt in his eyes now, the pain of feeling a rejection before you even had the chance to confess. What  _ he  _ had caused, to the one person he never, ever wanted to feel hurt or sadness. The person's happiness that had somehow, somewhere along the way, had become Kiyoomi’s happiness. 

“No matter what?” 

Atsumu finally turned to look at him, “No matter what.” 

Kiyoomi hesitated for a moment, staring back at Atsumu in the dark. His cheeks still flushed, his breath slowing down, his hair a mess now. And yet he looked so beautiful, it hurt Kiyoomi’s chest just thinking about it. He didn’t want this to just be a memory. He didn’t want this to be the last time. He couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to be without any of it. 

“Shoyou isn’t actually  _ my _ kid.” 

Atsumu could only blink, undeterred. “I’m an assassin.”

Now it was Kiyoomi’s turn to blink, pretending to be undeterred even though he suddenly felt like everything just clicked into place when it came to Atsumu. “...I’m a spy.”

Atsumu sat up, Kiyoomi following his lead. They were too tangled in the sheets, so they decided to sit cross legged, knees touching and both of them very much still naked, but hey, serious conversations like this can still happen if they ignore that part. 

“I work for a West faction mob boss.”

“I work for the anti-war agency.”

“So, was this whole temporary family thing a mission?”

“Yes, do you keep a count of your kills?”

“457, have you ever defused a bomb?”

“39 of them, does this mean that the mark on your butt that kinda looks like a bullet wound is  _ actually _ a bullet wound?”

“Oh god,” Atsumu held a hand up to his blushing cheeks. “You seriously looked at my butt.”

“Tsumu, we just had  _ sex _ .”

“Right.”

“Also, you have a great butt.”

“Please stop…,” Atsumu blushed again. “Ya know, I was shot in the butt two days before you asked me out on a date. I didn’t want to refuse, so I went, but I was in serious pain trying to hide it.”

“I...kinda feel bad now.”

“Don’t be!” Atsumu grabbed onto Kiyoomi’s hands again, his blush still imminent on his face. “I was happy you asked me on a date, even if it was for the mission, or whatever.”

But that’s just it, Kiyoomi realized. “It wasn’t for the mission,” He found himself admitting, “It hasn’t been _ for the mission _ in a long time.” 

Kiyoomi asked Atsumu out on a date because he thought there was something wrong and he couldn’t bear seeing him upset, so he wanted to make him feel better. He  _ wanted _ to kiss Atsumu’s hands or kiss him on the lips. He wanted to be close to Atsumu, closer and closer, as much as he could without putting anything into words or making it complicated. The kind of relief that always washed over him when he would see Atsumu and Shoyou, safe and sound, their happy, smiling faces looking at him. 

Somewhere along the way Kiyoomi had begun to believe that this was a family as real as he could attain, and he loved every bit of it. There were no more lonely evenings, no reckless decisions made with the thoughts of “who will miss me anyway”, no wavering desires for something more. 

This was it, he wanted nothing more, but certainly nothing less. 

Kiyoomi squeezed Atsumu’s hands, “Is it really okay for me to want this? I lied to you about my circumstances and everything.”

“Sure it ain’t perfect, but no one is, Omi. Plus, I lied to you too, so don’t they cancel each other out?” 

Kiyoomi found himself laughing, “What kind of weird logic is that?” 

“Ugh…” Atsumu began to say, “I want to say stop laughing but you’re so cute that I can’t.”

Kiyoomi grabbed Atsumu’s face in both hands and leaned in, planting a small kiss on his lips. “No, you’re the cute one. Also, I’m in love with you too, no matter what.”

  
  


_____________________

  
  
  


The bell for the front door rang to indicate the entrance of a customer, but Keiji was unamused. Work had piled up in terms of his side jobs and he was absolutely in no mood to bother with trying to fake it with regular IT help-seeking people. He had enough on his plate, and too many pieces of a broken heart to mend. 

“We’re closed!” He shouted from the back, his eyes fixated on the laptop in front of him.

“Even for your favourite customer?”

Keiji blinked, processing the voice, a slow turn in his chair to see Bokuto Koutarou, leaning on the counter. Was this real or an apparition? A dream? Has Keiji finally gone mad after a love lost? 

“I want to tell you that I’m incredibly stupid,” Bokuto began, certainly in the strangest way. “And I get dejected easily and I worry about things that are good in my life so much that I push them away.” He made his way around the counter, walking up to the Keiji where he sat frozen in his chair. “And you, I have this gut feeling that you’re the best thing I’m ever going to come across, and that scares the hell out of me.”

“...Why?”

“I want you to like me so bad I get scared of what I’m capable of doing.”

Keiji let out a small laugh. “Like what?”

“Like this.” 

And then he kissed him. 

  
  


___________________

  
  


“Handler, are you seriously telling me that I’ve been angsting over having to leave this family thing for months now for  _ nothing _ .”

Kiyoomi had worn a three-piece suit for the occasion, determined to look his absolute best for the meeting with his boss, his greatest attempt at asking for Operation Noor to be extended somehow, or simply, to just let Kiyoomi live this life. Be normal for once. Have a home. A family.

She laughed. “I said you were adopting him didn’t I? I never said you had to give him up if the opportunity arises or even find a husband. All that was on you.”

Kiyoomi looked at her with contempt in his eyes. “I broke the code though. I followed my emotions, got attached. Atsumu knows about me now too.”

“And as long as he’s not going around blabbing it to every person he meets, it’s fine. I’ll leave that to you, Jackal. And Shoyou, he’s yours as long as you want him. I have no objections for you to reject Oikawa Tooru’s offer, so long as you protect him as promised.”

“ _ Obviously _ it’s a promise. I’ll die protecting the kid and Tsumu. I swear my life on it.”

“Then take up a gamble with the universe Kiyoomi, go and be happy.” 

  
  
  


_ I’ll find my way to you in each life  
_ _ The universe will make it so  
_ _ Because the love I have for you overflows  
_ _ It dips the sun at the horizon, it carries the moon into the sky  
_ _ I’ll find you even among the stars  
_ _ No matter what, no matter what _

  
  


_____________________

**END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are!! Big thank you to all who read this fic, it means a lot to me, especially all your kudos and lovely comments, thank you so much!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this fic and I hope it didn't turn out as bad as I think. I'm sorry I breezed over the festival date and the stuff with Oikawa, the fic was long enough and my hands were getting tired lol but I hope what I've written is still acceptable. 
> 
> Thank you again for your support! Feel free to chat with me about it on [tumblr](https://tobiohchan.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tobiohchans)!!


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